A Man monologue — The Passing of Mars: A Modern Morality Play

Even that we might be able to achieve If one would help us to the holy way. We fight not for ourselves, good mother, no! We fight for place, for honor and for home, For what the great, who lead us, say is best, The whims of senators, the dreams of kings; And often know not why our blood is poured, A turbulent, unholy river of lust. And when the people cry for war and shout The sure destruction of another nation It is because they fear and know that fear Is far more terrible than roughest strife. Nor are we fools to give up life with joy, Save when the feud of Capital and Labor Has made our minds a Hell of sordid warfare And clothed our gayety in querulous crepe. Then, in our desperate mourning for young joy, The sweetness and variety of life, The rainbow radiance and the cloth of gold That are youth’s great inalienable right, We know no other way and follow blindly The one mad way that gives a thrill of glory, And frees our pulsing life. So are we made.... But we, who lie on beds of bloody sweat, Washed by our women’s tears, we fain would see Another era of mankind made new, Young Titans, strong enough to war on war, This hoary curse from the stringy throat of Mars To answer and to silence and to choke!