MARS
My shield, my spear! Now am I well content.
Go, Science, and prepare for this great war
As Capital and Labor shall agree,
And send me Poetry, my ancient friend!
(Exeunt Science, Labor, Capital, and Flip. Enter Poetry.)
MARS
Poetry, it was you, who made my fame,
Who taught the people all the best of me—
POETRY
Mars, I shall sing your praises nevermore,
Nor shall the people need you evermore.
I sing the people, as I always have,
And, as they change, the new song of new times.
Who till The World Field for the harvest’s sake
And feast in The World Inn at set of sun,
And mate with healthy joy in one another,
And gladly breed the children of the flesh
And of the spirit, and who build our homes,
Who cleanse and fashion, and repair your wrongs,
These are my folk, and their new songs I sing,
And a new era, burning bright with peace.
(A chain breaks and frees the right arm of Soul of Man, who extends it in blessing toward Poetry.)
SOUL OF MAN
O Poetry, your word has broken bonds
Forged long ago when earth was very young.
Sing you for me till you and I together
Shall leaven all this lump of humankind
With the new yeast of kindly brotherhood.
We’ll purge the old earth of this festering fear
And heal this cancer! Poetry, sing on!