Might happy live, and praise its pleasantness
In such wise as the angels never could,
Wherefore are hearts, fashioned so wondrously,
All spoiled and changed by human bitterness
Into the likenesses of stone and wood?
[pg 68]
“O Long the Fiends of War shall dance”
O long the fiends of war shall dance
Upon the stricken fields of France:
And long and long their grisly cry