THE BOOK OF THE HOMELESS
CRY OF THE HOMELESS
Instigator of the ruin—
Whichsoever thou mayst be
Of the mastering minds of Europe
That contrived our misery—
Hear the wormwood-worded greeting
From each city, shore, and lea
Of thy victims:
"Enemy, all hail to thee!"
Yea: "All hail!" we grimly shout thee
That wast author, fount, and head
Of these wounds, whoever proven
When our times are throughly read.
"May thy dearest ones be blighted
And forsaken," be it said
By thy victims,
"And thy children beg their bread!"
Nay: too much the malediction.—
Rather let this thing befall
In the unfurling of the future,
On the night when comes thy call:
That compassion dew thy pillow
And absorb thy senses all
For thy victims.
Till death dark thee with his pall.
August, 1915
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