Time! Joyless Emblem Of The Greed Of

Without Poetry The Soul And Heart Of Man Starves And Dies.

My Heart Is Tuned To Sorrow, And The Strings Vibrate Most Readily To Minor Chords, Searching And Sad; My Mind Is Stuffed With Words Which Voice The Passion And The Ache Of Things: Illusions Beating With Their Baffled Wings Against The Walls Of Circumstance.

Time! Joyless Emblem Of The Greed Of Millions, Robber Of The Best Which Earth Can Give.

Fifteen Millions Of Soldiers With Popguns And Horses All Bent Upon Killing, Because Their "of Courses" Are Not Quite The Same.

How Hard, How Desperately Hard, Is The Way Of The Experimenter In Art!