By George Sterling

As he who shod the horses of the sun,
    She made her desecrated forges peal
    To monstrous births of cannon and of keel,
Where fires deliver and the hammers stun;
And when the daylight and the toil were done,
    Upon the breast of Peace she set her heel,
    Loosing the headlong avalanche of steel,
With lance on lance and gun on cruel gun.

As Sampson in his blindness hath she snapt
    The pillars of the temple of the light,
        Drawn down in ruin upon Europe's head.
To heavens in the smoke of conquest wrapt
    There cry unheeded voices in the night,
        From new-made ramparts builded of the dead.

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