Then Barrett Bays shook like an animal That starves and freezes. And the jury looked And waited till he got control of self And spoke again his horror and his grief:-- "I left her, went upon the silent streets, And walked the night through half insane, I think. Cannot remember what I saw that night, Have only blurs of buildings, arches, towers, Remember dawn at last, returning strength, And taking rolls and coffee, all my spirit Grown clear and hard as crystal, with a will As sharp as steel to find reality: To see life as it is and face its terrors, And never feel a tremor, bat an eye. Drink any cup to find the truth, and be A pioneer in a world made new again, Stripped of the husks, bring new faith to the world, Of souls devoted to themselves to make Souls truer, more developed, wise and fair! Write down the creed of service, and write in Self-culture, self-dependence, throw away The testaments of Jesus, old and new, Save as they speak and help the river life To mould our truer beings; the rest discard Which teaches compensation, to forgive That you may be forgiven, mercy show That mercy may be yours, and love your neighbor, Love so to gain--all balances like this Of doctrine for the spirit false and vile, Corrupted with such calculating filth; And if you'd be the greatest, be the servant-- When one to be the greatest must be great In self, a light, a harmony in self, Perfected by the inner law, the works Done for the sake of beauty, for the self Without the hope of gain except the soul, Your one possession, grows a perfect thing If tended, studied, disciplined. While all This ethic of the war, the sickly creed Which Elenor Murray mouthed, but hides the will Which struggles still, would live, lies to itself, Lies to its neighbor and the world, and leaves Our life upon a wall of rotting rock Of village mortals, patriotism, lies!" "And as for that, what did I see in Paris But human nature working in the war As everywhere it works in peace? Cabals, And jealousies and hatreds, greed alert; Ambition, cruelty, strife piled on strife; No peace in labor that was done for peace; Hypocrisy elaborate and rampant. Saw at first hand what coiled about the breast Of Florence Nightingale when she suffered, strove In the Crimean War, struck down by envy, Or nearly so. Oh, is it human nature, That fights like maggots in the rotting carcass? Or is it human nature tortured, bound By artificial doctrines, creeds which all Pretend belief in, really doubt, resist And cannot live by?"