In The World

Is this the world we sought? Is this our dream Of life’s warm heart; and yon divided host! Is that the camp that marks the latest stage On man’s adventurous quest? Full well we knew That we had left behind the peace that dwells In quiet woodland ways. Yes, for we dreamed Of danger and of strife, of sorrow and sin; But always in our dream a battle song Called us to fields unwon, and evermore, Above the failure and the sacrifice, We heard the voice of hope that told the world It laboured not in vain. Is this that world? This the great comrade host? Our eyes are dim; For we have seen the saddest sight on earth,-- Her faithless millions. Toil and strife and sin, Pity and love we see; but what that speaks Of man’s belief in a great destiny? What symbol shines before us? Not the sword!-- The noble cause unsheaths it not: we fight Not to save others, nay, we hardly dare To fight to save our honour or ourselves. The cross? It stands aloft on spire and dome, An ornament above the empty church, While underneath it in the market-place We kneel, we bow before the Belly-god. He is our own! Behold we fashioned him! We fattened him, as bees create their queen, Shaped him with our inventions, in his frame Ordered blind forces to mechanic law. But lo! his breath is but an engine throb; He knows not love nor ruth; he has no soul,-- This idol in our midst, our Belly-god. He offers us the substance of the known, He asks no faith in the unseen, he prompts No sacrifice that earns not its reward. Comfort and wealth he promises to man, He shows the poor the gold he gave the rich And bids them take it, and the rich he arms Against the poor. How different a world From that we pictured, when we watched the dawn Break on the blue horizon of the hills That ringed our quiet homeland, and we dwelt Among the scattered friendly folk. Our dreams Then told us of profounder tides of life, Nobler activities, more glorious tasks, Born of the strength of numbers; now we see Weakness, not strength, in numbers, where no cause, No common faith unites them; now we hear The sound of the great moving multitude That marches without goal or leader, nay, That marches not, but spreads. What profits it That man shall gain the world and lose his soul? What that he conquer nature and enslave Her forces, if he stands himself a slave Ruled by his own inventions? What that bread Be cheaper to the poor, if life itself Have lost its savour, and the daily toil Grown so mechanical, themselves become But parts of the machine they tend? ’Twere well If they could see in this dull servitude Some noble purpose, or behold at last Its help to the world; but they discern no end Save riches gathered, and the luxury They envy but can never hope to share. What have we gained in welfare to atone For beauty lost? This spreading human mass Has marred earth’s lovely ways with steam and oil, And soon will desecrate the paths of heaven With loud excursions. Soon the earth will keep No hiding-place for Pan, no solitude Among the hills, no cloisters of the woods. And what of that if Nature’s loveliness Were but a sacrifice? if for that loss The world had gained new joy? if the wild charm Of solitude, the beauty that the feet Of men destroy had passed into their souls, And gave the weary toilers of the town New hope? But no! the beauty we destroy Leaves us no child behind: humanity Is robbed for ever; and the poor, for whom Beauty was the one priceless thing on earth, Save love, that without payment was their own,-- They are the most bereft. How shall we stay This thing called progress, this machinery Fashioned by man to drive and crush himself, This crafty servant of the Belly-god, That multiplies our wealth and starves our souls? Was it for this vile servitude that man Contended through the ages with the powers Of darkness, till at last he saw the star Of Freedom shining on his onward way? Out of that vast contention, from that Hell Of suffering and sacrifice at last Rising victorious, the victory Should be indeed heroic, and the goal Beyond it something nobler than the quest Of treasure upon earth;--ay, though that wealth Be subdivided, and mankind become A brotherhood of prosperous shareholders.

This is the world! Our dream of life’s warm heart Beating with greater purposes, and fired With nobler aims, where the great companies Of men are gathered:--all is unfulfilled; And yet our dream lives on! Oh, cherish it! ’Twas given us to guard: ’tis the design Of the Eternal Architect, revealed To earthly toilers; and ’tis not for man To shape his dreams to fit the world he finds, But to rebuild the world to fit his dreams.

What of ourselves, who looking on the world Condemn its faithlessness? How weak indeed Must be our own faith if our hope for man Fails because here the march is retrograde And there the goal is hidden. We have mourned Beauty deflowered, and paths of old romance Trodden to dust; but we remembered not The waste reclaimed, the pestilential swamp Drained of its poison. While in vain we sought The faith that led the old world’s pioneers Through desert places, we forget that Hell Of superstition, bigotry, and fear That tortured countless souls, that bondage vile From which the world has freed itself at last. Foul things that never shall be seen again Have been uprooted; but the beautiful, The old and lovely things that now are not,-- These are not dead, but in our dreams they hide, Till love shall charm them back into the world.

’Tis man’s to build; our dream shows God’s design: The misinterpretation of our dream, Our faithlessness, is written in the world; But still the dream remains;--’tis born again With every child that comes from the unknown Into our mortal life. ’Twas not for us To look for the fulfilment of our dream, Or find our heart’s desire upon the earth: But it is ours to labour; ay, ’tis ours Into our labour to translate our dreams.

Come! for our labour calls us to the world,-- The world that bows before the Belly-god To whom men sacrifice their dreams divine For meats that perish. Are they satisfied? Are they not crying, Give us back our dreams? Come! ’tis for those who have not sold their dreams To stand together and to lead the world.