CRY OF THE HOMELESS

Instigator of the ruin— Whichsoever thou mayst be Of the mastering minds of Europe That contrived our misery— Hear the wormwood-worded greeting From each city, shore, and lea Of thy victims: “Enemy, all hail to thee!” Yea: “All hail!” we grimly shout thee That wast author, fount, and head Of these wounds, whoever proven When our times are throughly read. “May thy dearest ones be blighted And forsaken,” be it said By thy victims, “And thy children beg their bread!” Nay: too much the malediction.— Rather let this thing befall In the unfurling of the future, On the night when comes thy call: That compassion dew thy pillow And absorb thy senses all For thy victims, Till death dark thee with his pall. Thomas Hardy