Constantine Michaelides.
And
we who live
in
the loud age
of
steam
Are
but the
children
still
Of those
who
ploughed
the earth
with
wooden
share
And
ground
the sunburnt
grain
With
their
own hand, or
fought with
simple
Sword
and
shield .
The
din
of men
Who
march , the
vanguard
of mankind
to -day ,
Is far
from
you ; your
home
Is left untortured by
the
strife
of
souls
A
strife religion -born ,
For that blind
change
which we salute
in
faith
As
progress .
Overbold
Dictating
wisdom
to
a
silent God
We grasp
the wrist
of
Fate
Immovable , and
hearken
not
her
voice
Save
in
our
own .
But
you
Stand
in
the
quiet
of
unchanging
light
And
listen
to
the
truth .
Dichas
progressed
changement
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