With wagging ears and blinded eyes
They do not understand.
With pride they show each shackled wrist
And on each brow the brand.
The young, the old, the great, the small
Give homage--all supine.
Fond parents bring their children there
As to some holy shrine.
And every one the Beast transforms
From human into swine!
Well praised are they--rewarded well--
Who on their shoulders bore
The gilded Thing that all the mob
Fawned in the dust before.
And each that did obeisance there
Was naked like a whore.
The poet with his teeming song,
The wise his deep-delved lore,
The maiden with her tender flesh,
The strong his sturdy store:
Each yielded all he had to give;
No harlot could do more.
Is there not one to share with me
The shame and wrath I own?
Is there not one to curse that Thing
Or pick up stones to stone--
To rend and wreck and raze to earth--
Or do I stand alone?
Raise high the swine-like incubus,
Obediently bow!
Shatter the flame on rebel lips
And wreath that brazen brow!
So blaze the banners, ring the bells,
Apotheosis now!
My kind but scorn your dull "success"--
Your subtle ways to "win,"
We eat our hearts in solitude
Or sear our souls with "sin";
Yet we are better men than you
Who fit so smugly in.
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