1 Ah! What avails the classic bent And what the cultured word, Against the undoctored incident That actually occurred? 2 And what is Art whereto we press Through paint and prose and rhyme– When Nature in her nakedness Defeats us every time? 3 It is not learning, grace nor gear, Nor easy meat and drink, But bitter pinch of pain and fear That makes creation think. 4 When in this world's unpleasing youth Our godlike race began, The longest arm, the sharpest tooth, Gave man control of man; 5 Till, bruised and bitten to the bone And taught by pain and fear, He learned to deal the far-off stone, And poke the long, safe spear. 6 So tooth and nail were obsolete As means against a foe Till, bored by uniform defeat, Some genius built the bow. 7 Then stone and javelin proved as vain As old-time tooth and nail; Till, spurred anew by fear and pain, Man fashioned coats of mail. 8 Then was there safety for the rich And danger for the poor, Till someone mixed a powder which Redressed the scale once more. 9 Helmet and armour disappeared With sword and bow and pike, And, when the smoke of battle cleared, All men were armed alike . . . . 10 And when ten million such were slain To please one crazy king, Man, schooled in bulk by fear and pain, Grew weary of the thing; 11 And, at the very hour designed, To enslave him past recall, His tooth-stone-arrow-gun-shy mind Turned and abolished all. 12 All Power, each Tyrant, every Mob Whose head has grown too large, Ends by destroying its own job And works its own discharge; 13 And Man, whose mere necessities Move all things from his path, Trembles meanwhile at their decrees, And deprecates their wrath!
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