Children of the Night

The World

     Some are the brothers of all humankind,
      And own them, whatsoever their estate;
     And some, for sorrow and self-scorn, are blind
      With enmity for man's unguarded fate.

     For some there is a music all day long
      Like flutes in Paradise, they are so glad;
     And there is hell's eternal under-song
      Of curses and the cries of men gone mad.

     Some say the Scheme with love stands luminous,
      Some say 't were better back to chaos hurled;
     And so 't is what we are that makes for us
      The measure and the meaning of the world.