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"They kill the bodies swift for me, And kill the souls you gave to peace. . . . You were more merciful than these,
Old master of my cruelty.
"Lo, souls are scarred and virtues dim : Take back thy scourge of ministry. Rise from thy silence suddenly.
Lest these still take Death's toll to him !"
The War-God snapped his golden chain : His mercies thundered down the world. And lashing battle-lines uncurled
And scourged the crouching lands again.
— Margaret Widdemer.
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