A Look into the Gulf Assyria goes by upon the wind!" And so she babbles by the ancient road, While cities turned to dust upon the Earth Rise through her whirling brain to live again— Babbles all night, and when her voice is dead Her weary lips beat on without a sound. Brotherhood The crest and crowning of all good, graves. Come, clear the way, then, clear the way : Blind creeds and kings have had their day. Break the dead branches from the path: Our hope is in the aftermath Our hope is in heroic men, Star-led to build the world again. To this Event the ages ran: Make way for Brotherhood-make way for Man. Song of the Followers of Pan Our bursting bugles blow apart We break in music on the mornsSing of the flower to stirring roots; Apollo's cry is in the horns, And Hermes' whisper in the flutes. We come with laughter to the Earth, And lightly stir the heading wheat : Our God is Poesy and Mirth, And loves the noise of woodland feet. When dancers beat the air to sound, Little Brothers of the Ground Little ants in leafy wood, Men are ground by the wheel of toil; Ye are fraters in your hall, All are sharers in the yield. But we mortals plot and plan |