Shout victory o'er the prostrate shape of truth.
Take cross and pike and gold and sophistry,
To pray and prod and purchase, wheedle, wile;
Stamp out the roses in a waste of weeds,
Shout while the trembling voice of truth is hushed.
Shatter with iron heel the poet's dream,
The prophet's protest, and the ages' hope,
Of brotherhood and light and love on earth--
Of peace and plenty and a perfect race.
Tear down the fabric of ten thousand years,