  The pessimist Our lot is cast in evil days We almost lose our faith in God, We cannot comprehend His ways, Nor recognize His chast'ning rod. To stem the Hun's relentless tread, His hymns of hate, his crimes of Cain We give our daily toll of dead, But wonder if 'tis all in vain. The Optimist Brave men must fight, brave men must fall, Whene'er a tyrant lifts his head; When Freedom sounds her battle call, We must not grudge our noble dead. E'en now the victor's shouts we hear, On blood bought hill, o'er shell-swept plain; The end of tyranny is near, Our struggle has not been in vain. The Socialist If, when our cheering shall have died, No more for sordid grain we plan, But shed the hoofs and horns of pride, And strive to help our fellow man, For labor done by hand or brain And none can take what others earn; The war will not have been in vain. The Anarchist If still the selfish creed we preach Of pleasure, ease and strife for gold; Employer, and employee, each Resentful, greedy, uncontrolled; Then poor men still will curse the great, And hellish hordes will rise again With hungry, hardened, Hunnish hate; This war will have been fought in vain. |
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