Peasants, rise in splendor And your accounting render Ere the lords unnerve your hand! Sew the flags together. Do not tear them down. Hurl the worlds together. Dethrone the wallowing monster And the clown. Resolving:-- “Only that shall grow In Balkan furrow, Chinese row, That blooms, and is perpetually young.” That only be held fine and dear That brings heart-wisdom year by year And puts this thrilling word upon the tongue: “The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World.” “Youth will be served,” now let us cry. Hurl the referendum. Your fathers, five long years ago, Resolved to strike, too late. Now Sun-crowned crowds Innumerable, Of boys and girls Imperial, With your patchwork flag of brotherhood On high, With every silk In one flower-banner whirled-- Rise, Citizens of one tremendous state, The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World. The dawn is rose-drest and impearled. The guards of privilege are spent. The blood-fed captains nod. So Saxon, Slav, French, German, Rise, Yankee, Chinese, Japanese, All the lands, all the seas, With the blazing rainbow flag unfurled, Rise, rise, Take the sick dragons by surprise, Highly establish, In the name of God, The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World. Written for William Stanley Braithwaite’s Victory Anthology issued at once, after Armistice Day, November, 1918. JUSTINIAN (_The Tory Reply_) Nay, let us have the marble peace of Rome, Recorded in the Code Justinian, Till Pagan Justice shelters man from man. Fanatics snarl like mongrel dogs; the code Will build each custom like a Roman Road, Direct as daylight, clear-eyed as the sun. God grant all crazy world-disturbers cease. God give us honest peace. THE VOICE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI I saw St. Francis by a stream Washing his wounds that bled. The aspens quivered overhead. The silver doves flew round. Weeping and sore dismayed “Peace, peace,” St. Francis prayed. But the soft doves quickly fled. Carrion crows flew round. An earthquake rocked the ground. “War, war,” the west wind said. IN WHICH ROOSEVELT IS COMPARED TO SAUL _Written and published in 1913, and republished five years later, in The Boston Transcript, on the death of Roosevelt._ Where is David?... Oh God’s people Saul has passed, the good and great. Mourn for Saul, the first anointed, Head and shoulders o’er the state. He was found among the prophets: Judge and monarch, merged in one. But the wars of Saul are ended, And the works of Saul are done. Where is David, ruddy shepherd, God’s boy-king for Israel? Mystic, ardent, dowered with beauty, Singing where still waters dwell? Prophet, find that destined minstrel Wandering on the range today, Driving sheep, and crooning softly Psalms that cannot pass away.