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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508803" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Monster</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508803" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When we might make with happy heart<br> This world a paradise,<br>With bombs we blast brave men apart,<br> With napalm carbonize.<br>Where we might till the sunny soil,<br> And sing for joy of life,<br>We spend our treasure and our toil<br> In bloody strife.<br> <br>The fields of wheat are sheening gold,<br> The flocks have silver fleece;<br>The signs are sweetly manifold<br> Of plenty, praise and peace.<br>Yet see! The sky is like a cowl<br> Where grimy toilers bore<br>The shards of steel that feed the foul<br> Red maw of War.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508803" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Instead of butter give us guns;<br> Instead of sugur, shells.<br>Devoted mothers, bear your sons<br> To glut still hotter hells.<br>Alas! When will mad mankind wake<br> To banish evermore,<br>And damn for God in Heaven's sake<br> Mass Murder--WAR?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a></strong></div>