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Old Men - We are too old, and these are mere winners of wars | 14-Dec-12

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Old Men

We are too old, and these are mere winners of wars,
These boys in the last of their teens, hair in their eyes,
Sea-wind in their faces, hearts singing above the song
Of engines thrown to the compass points of the skies.

We are too old, it is ours to prepare for them
Against their return, the groundwork of victory.
But they too will be old then, and the strategy
Of Life and Death will be there in their eyes to see.

Old men all of us, we in our years and they
In things seen, in the waves, in the deserts, in trails of the sky...
Remember peace as it was, hot and restive with hate,
Fear and money; old men, they, and you, and I.

Let us Dear God know this in the last grey months of war,
That the old men have earned their rest and must not be there
When the world is fashioned again from its inmost core,
To the sea and the forests and curved savannahs of the air.

Only the very young then, the boys and girls of today
At schools, or the Orinoco, here, or the Caspian Sea,
Can be young enough and clear enough to think and be able to say,
"This is the world we imagine and will make it be."

We are too old, and those who will win this war,
Ours is to watch the young and kneel to them at their birth,
And our old hearts can hope it will never be as before,
When the old rich men came out and gave us an old man's world.

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