I see grim War, a bestial thing, <br />with swinish tusks to tear; <br />Upon his back the vampires cling, <br />Thin vipers twine among his hair, <br />The tiger's greed is in his jowl, <br />His eye is red with bloody tears, <br />And every obscene beast and fowl <br />From out his leprous visage leers. <br />In glowing pride fell fiends arise, <br />And, trampled, God the Father lies. <br /> <br />Not God alone the Demon slays; <br />The hills that swell to Heaven drip <br />With ooze of murdered men; for days <br />The dead drift with the drifting ship, <br />And far as eye may see the plain <br />Is cumbered deep with slaughtered ones, <br />Contorted to the shape of pain, <br />Dissolving 'neath the callous suns, <br />And driven in his foetid breath <br />Still ply the harvesters of Death. <br /> <br />He sits astride an engine dread, <br />And at his touch the awful ball <br />Across the quaking world is sped, <br />I see a million creatures fall. <br />Beyond the soldiers on the hill, <br />The mother by her basinet. <br />The bolt its mission must fulfil, <br />And in the years that are not yet <br />Creation by the blow is shorn <br />Of dimpled hosts of babes unborn!<br /><br />Edward George Dyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-unborn-2/
