The New Brotherhood

These men drop bitter disillusion.
Heavy as tepid mud in a pool;
Dropping, flopping, plopping, dropping
There hate brittle and harsh.
Bitterly purposeless.
Smug talk of "slums mid Comrades":
Yet their own fair paunches lined—
"Oh [unclear: breaking] love said one.

Fools! Have they not seen
The folded [unclear: shadows] lie boldly on the hills;
Nor heard the glistering melody to [unclear: sweep] and soar;
Nor felt the luminous [unclear: peace] of night!

—E.J.