Juggernaut
Reading edition
Yes, Kultur, the German Juggernaut, has passed this way. There is no mistaking the foul track of his chariot-wheels.
Kultur is the German God. But there is a greater God still. He sees it all. He speaks,—
“Was it for this I died?— —Black clouds of smoke that veil the sight of heaven; Black piles of stones which yesterday were homes; And raw black heaps which once were villages; Fair towns in ashes, spoiled to suage thy spleen; My temples desecrate, My priests out-cast:— Black ruin everywhere, and red,—a land All swamped with blood, and savaged raw and bare; All sickened with the reek and stench of war, And flung a prey to pestilence and want; —Thy work! For this?— —Life’s fair white flower of manhood in the dust; Ten thousand thousand hearts made desolate; My troubled world a seething pit of hate; My helpless ones the victims of thy lust;— The broken maids lift hopeless eyes to Me, The little ones lift handless arms to Me, The tortured women lift white lips to Me, The eyes of murdered white-haired sires and dames Stare up at Me.—And the sad anguished eyes Of My dumb beasts in agony. —Thy work!”
JOHN OXENHAM
KULTUR HAS PASSED HERE