New Year's Night, 1916

The Earth moans in her sleep     Like an old mother     Whose sons have gone to the war,     Who weeps silently in her heart     Till dreams comfort her.     The Earth tosses     As if she would shake off humanity,     A burden too heavy to be borne,     And free of the pest of intolerable men,     Spin with woods and waters     Joyously in the clear heavens     In the beautiful cool rains,     Bearing gladly the dumb animals,     And sleep when the time comes     Glistening in the remains of sunlight     With marmoreal innocency.     Be comforted, old mother,     Whose sons have gone to the war;     And be assured, O Earth,     Of your burden of passionate men,     For without them who would dream the dreams     That encompass you with glory,     Who would gather your youth     And store it in the jar of remembrance,     Who would comfort your old heart     With tales told of the heroes,     Who would cover your face with the cerecloth     All rustling with stars,     And mourn in the ashes of sunlight,     Mourn your marmoreal innocency?