Indifferent to a world in agony, <br />The drunken wasters crowd the cabaret, <br />Whose midnight orgies end but with the day. <br />O Liberty, are these the fruits of thee— <br />This swarm of vampires that the dark sets free, <br />To batten upon murder, and decay? <br />Are these our masters and the race their prey, <br />And hast thou long to live when such things be? <br /> <br />So in the wake of war do jackals come <br />To feast on those that perish in thy name, <br />And when the wounded breasts at last are dumb, <br />To howl exultant to the setting moon, <br />Till, frightened by the sun's returning flame, <br />They scamper to their holes and sleep by noon.<br /><br />George Sterling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/broadway-new-york-july-1916/
