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The Profiteers Post by :jonnydd Category :Poems Author :Edward Doyle Date :July 2011 Read :2468

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The Profiteers

Now and in life--not Virgil--breaks a storm
Of Harpies, harsh to ear and foul to smell.
It sweeps War's lengthening coast, where each sea-swell
Is Humans, gasping. Hope drags each cold form
From hearth to hearth, to find no ember warm;
Then, their eyes glitter frost, who hear hope yell
As up she climbs the rocks and falls pell-mell
Back from small herbs, where monsters swoop and swarm.

Oh, could the bestial birds, in Virgil's verse,
See Hope's hands redden, as she rends her hair,
They would grow human--would not glut, but share;
Nor, then, shed human semblance for man's curse--
As ye do, who from want, hold warmth and fair,
And gorge your bulks to sleep, as want writhes worse!

(The end)
Edward Doyle's poem: Profiteers

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Why The Stars Laugh Why The Stars Laugh

Why The Stars Laugh
Hark! 'tis the laughter of the stars at Earth, And Nature's, too, with every pitch of voice. Earth's carnival of sheer grotesque and noise, Where, gagged and manacled, walk Peace and Mirth, Shows Britain now, a beast of broadening girth, Set out to crush World Freedom. He destroys, And thinks his bear-like rearing, planet poise That is to influence the world's new birth. The stars are kind, as all the ages know;

To Our Boys 'over There' To Our Boys "over There"

To Our Boys 'over There'
Where flies our flag is Freedom's holy ground; There, it unfurls all benisons to Man. The twin of Spring, its spread unfolds God's plan Of human happiness, by setting bound To greed, lust, powers,--all colds,--that Right be crowned. Lo! where it leads, ye youth form valor's van, Mirrored and echoed by the azure's span For ages, for Man's gain in yours is wound. Oh, justice's Hot Gulf Stream are ye, who open