Like poor La Menken, strap me to the horse I'll do it if I die--so giving to peace The skill and genius which we use in war, Though it cost twenty billion, and why not? Why every dollar, every drop of blood For war like this to guard democracy, And not so much or more to build the land, Improve our blood, make individual America and her race? And first to rout Poverty and disease, give youth its chance, And therapeutic guidance. Soldier boys Have huts for recreation, clergymen, And is it more, less worth to furnish hands Intimate, hearts intimate for the use Of your La Menkens, Elenor Murrays, youths Who feel such vigor in their restless wings They tumble out of crowded nests and fly To fall in thickets, dash themselves against Walls, trees? I have a vision, Coroner, Of a new Republic, brighter than the sun, A new race, loftier faith, this land of ours Made over as to people, boys and girls, Conserved like forests, water power or mines; Watched, tested, put to best use, keen economies Practiced in spirits, waste of human life, Hope, aspiration, talent, virtues, powers, Avoided by a science, science of life, Of spirit, what you will. Enough of war, And billions for the flag--all well enough! Some billions now to make democracy Democracy in truth with us, and life Not helter-skelter, hitting as it may, And missing much, as this La Menken did. I'm not convinced we must have stunted pansies, That have no use but just to piece the pattern. Let's try, and if we try and fail, why then Our human duty ends, the God in us Will have it just this way, no other way. And then we may accept so poor a world, A republic so unfinished. * * * * * Will Paget is another writer of letters To Coroner Merival. The coroner Spends evenings reading letters, keeps a file Where he preserves them. And the blasphemy Of Paget makes him laugh. He has an evening And reads this letter to the jurymen: WILL PAGET ON DEMOS AND HOGOS