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Robert Laurence Binyon - There Is Still Splendour
Work rating: Low

O when will life taste clean again? For the air
 Is fouled: the world sees, hears; and each day brings
 Vile fume that would corrupt eternal things,
 Were they corruptible. Harsh trumpets blare
 Victory over the defenceless; there
 Beauty and compassion, all that loves the light,
 Is outcast; thousands in a homeless night
 Climb misery`s blind paths to the peak, Despair.
 Not only martyr`d flesh, but the mind bleeds.
 There`s nothing left to call inhuman, so
 Defaced is man`s name by the things men do.
 O worse, yet worse, if the world, seeing this,
 The hideous spawn of misbegotten creeds,
 Grow used, drugged, deadened, and accept the abyss.

 There is still splendour: the sea tells of it
 From far shores, and where murder`s made to lurk
 In the clean waters; there, men go to work
 Simply, upon their daily business, knit
 Together in one cause; they think no whit
 Of glory; enough that they are men. To those
 Who live by terror, calmly they oppose
 What wills, dares, and despises to submit.
 And the air tells of it: out of the eye`s ken
 Wings range and soar, a symbol of the free,
 In the same cause, outspeeding the swift wind.
 Millions of spirits bear them company.
 This is the splendour in the souls of men
 Which flames against that treason to mankind.
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