When conquerors lift the bloody shield, <br />Showing the fallen's ooze of life, <br />And on a waste of blasted field <br />Joy quickens to the drum and fife, <br />Then the weird brood of flame and fate, <br />Far under ground, are ill at ease, <br />And rock their bodies, as they wait, <br />When Death shall strangle even these. <br /> <br />The banquet board is red and white, <br />And laughter bubbles with the wine; <br />But what's the meed of this delight? <br />The pauper's children peak and pine! <br />Enough! our sisters laughing stir <br />The prescient worm, which scents and sees <br />The feast time shall not long defer -- <br />For Death shall strangle even these. <br /> <br />Tumbled at last in earth and lost <br />To church bells, sycophant and priest, <br />The sodden hulks of those who crossed <br />The world with sorrow west and east. <br />True Holder of the scales and sword, <br />God of all Gods, whose stern decrees <br />Scatter the emperor's bloody hoard -- <br />Great Death who stranglest even these! <br /> <br />So we shall not forever lie <br />In graves o'er run by cloven feet -- <br />We, vanquished who were first to die; <br />We, hooted from the judgment seat. <br />Come armŽd hands and hands that clutch <br />The bauble world, fall to your knees -- <br />Oh you who triumphed over-much -- <br />For death shall strangle even these.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hail-master-death/
