From time's first breath
the turn of hours
has been our tide,
defined not by depth
but overrated length,
life, this gift of ours,
has waned and died,
maligned strength.
So brief our term,
so limited our days –
an evening's sunlit sigh,
fragile and infirm,
soon by night supplanted;
too quickly passing by
to take for granted
Come! Do away with war,
For what is its worth?
That strife may abate,
Dare aspire to more, –
Rebel, arise, revive!
To the ends of the earth
Let us strive to create
A world alive.
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