The Race May Or May

War Is A Fevered God Who Takes Alike Maiden And King And Clod.

We Are These People, Wistful, Ironical, Wilful, Who Have No Part In New-world Reconstruction, In The Confederacy Of Labour.

The Heart The Heart The Heart How It Thrives On Hate.

Luminous, Unfearful; High-priestesses, Our Fervour Shall Banish All Evil.

Love Has No Charm When Love Is Swept To Earth: You'd Make A Lop-winged God, Frozen And Contrite, Of God Up-darting, Winged For Passionate Flight.