Classic Poem

Hail, puissant god, lord of all the gods,
The pillars of the world uprear thine hall;
Nations supply thy loaded table's feast
And thou, O pitiless, devourest all.
What meat thro' ages has not filled thy maw—
Brave glutton—sweeter for men's agonies?
O Mammon, thou hast many sacrifices
The smoke of thy altars overwhelms the skies.

The groan of starvelings and the sweat of toil,
Success and failure; centuries of strife;
Drink, death, disease, and every rottenness;
Joy, beauty, strength, the flower, the weed of life;
Round up thy nostrils, water thy foul lips;
Go to thy pot and steam thy swollen eyes.
O Mammon, thou hast many sacrifices,
The smoke of thy altars overwhelms the skies.

Thy feet are planted firm in hell; thy head
Pillows the stars; thy tongue licks up its prey.
Thy swart legs straddle over all the earth.
We are thy slaves; we tremble and obey.
Who shall withstand thee, O implacable,
Or crowd thy belly till it putrifies?
O Mammon, thou hast many sacrifices,
The smoke of thy altars overwhelms the skies.