THE RAILER.
Reading edition
“There is no joy thro’ all the earth: Hope is a witless mocker’s jest: There is no nobler second birth— Nor fair, nor best! “The touch of Death is over all And life is portal to the hell Where men are cattle in a stall To buy and sell! “Yea, he who tears his brother’s heart To cast it to the ravening crowd Is hailed as master of the mart With plaudits loud. “He wears his crown a little space Until a fiercer knave than he Shall push him from his vantage place And monarch be! “The shadows drive away the sun— The flowers are hid by jealous Night, The fruit is plundered—never won— And Might rules Right!” Thus raves the scoffer, age in age, Who bears no message of his own Save the blind clamor of his rage From breast of stone. He holds a balance in his claw To weigh with loaded penny-weights The mighty universe of Law With all its fates! This, to the railer from the tombs Who makes not, neither loves nor gives: Spite of the crackle of thy dooms God lives! God lives! John Jerome Rooney.
