The Scorn Of Human Rights

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Title:     The Scorn Of Human Rights
Author: Edward Doyle [More Titles by Doyle]

What is the blight to spring that kills the seed
And raises spectres, so that stars cry "See!"
Aghast at forests, white or shadowy?
The scorn of human rights, that can but lead
The world from doom to doom! and for what mead?
A bronze for rain and rust, or effigy
For nibbling minutes--ah, not hours!--these flee
To life's progression--truth and kindly deed.

Look! How this scorn holds freemen in the dark,
Except for a flare at will that, then, the throng,
Reduced to dust, may rise and whirl along
The lift and drop of glitter, without spark
To set the spring a-crackling with bird song,
Till bud and angel both come out to hark!

[The end]
Edward Doyle's poem: Scorn Of Human Rights

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