"They kill the bodies swift for me,

And kill the souls you gave to peace. . . . You were more merciful than these,

Old master of my cruelty.

"Lo, souls are scarred and virtues dim : Take back thy scourge of ministry. Rise from thy silence suddenly.

Lest these still take Death's toll to him !"

The War-God snapped his golden chain : His mercies thundered down the world. And lashing battle-lines uncurled

And scourged the crouching lands again.

— Margaret Widdemer.

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