LO HERE! LO THERE!
Ye shall not judge men by the drinks they take.
Nor by unthinking oath, nor what they wear.
For look! the mitered liars protest make
And drinking know they lie, and knowing swear.
No oath is round without the rounded fruit,
Nor pompous promise hides the ultimate.
In scarlet as in overalls and tailored suit
To-morrow's truemen and the traitors wait
Untold by trick of blazonry or voice.
But harvest ripens and there come the reaping days
When each shall choose one path to bide the choice.
And ye shall knoe men when they face dividing ways.
