Pillow Of Your Bones
the Desiderata of Happiness
What fool shall say, "my days are fair,
God's in his world and all is well."
When half mankind shrieks in despair
Worse than in Dante's flaming Hell!
I cannot sing in happy mood
While hostile armies take their toll.
On these dark days I toil and brood
With starless midnight in my soul.
And yet, O World, O Life, O God!
I find myself, just as the fool,
Believing in thy chastening rod,
Believing still that love must rule.
When will the nations live by reason's light,
And not by deeds that terrify?
New groups of nations win with every fight;
An endless feud, and always men must die.
When will the nations cure the itching palm?
Change curse of national pride to love of peace?
When shall we know again the gift of calm?
Dear God, when will this killing cease?
We crossed the seas to curb a nation's lust,
We sought by force to quench an alien fire.
From now we strive to understand, ant trust
Fair play to bring the world's desire.
How can we look these veterans in the face?
We snatched them from their dear familiar round.
Is our dream mad to school a wayward race?
And what of them beneath the ground?