Where goes love when love has failed,
and where goes hope when fear becalms
and it charms,
and when hearts have quailed?
The spirits are departing, quick
to leave the lands in their mere
of poisons, and their rapine fear-
stone is just stone, stick just stick.
Where is the hope of heart to heart
alien perhaps, but given to love?
The same, perhaps, as the hope that above
the gods will save us at last. It is dark
when driven from lands is life,
leaving to live--fear, greed, death, strife.