It is not bad. Let them play.
Let the guns bark and the bombing-plane
Speak his prodigious blasphemies.
It is not bad, it is high time,
Stark violence is still the sire of all the world-s values.
What but the wolf-s tooth whittled so fine
The fleet limbs of the antelope?
What but fear winged the birds, and hunger
Jewelled with such eyes the great goshawk-s head?
Violence has been the sire of all the world-s values.
Who would remember Helen-s face
Lacking the terrible halo of spears?
Who formed Christ but Herod and Caesar,
The cruel and bloody victories of Caesar?
Violence, the bloody sire of all the world-s values.
Never weep, let them play,
Old violence is not too old to beget new values.
The Bloody Sire
Robinson Jeffers
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Poem topics: fear, never, remember, time, head, great, face, hunger, terrible, speak, high, plane, play, caesar, world, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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