Who cares for truth? Who values honour now?
To make more money is what matters most.
The gamblers move on politics and throw
Their dice with Caesar. ‘Alea iacta est!’
And all are bribed, even the startled poor.
These worshippers of Mammon shame the saints.
Who would become a holy millionaire
Must neither eat nor sleep, and if he faints
On golf-course in pursuit of profit, his
Defaulted life must falter on. One comes
To hate this age of trash, whose annals are
Old cheque-books saved, whose merchant arts disguise
A world of cheats. Interminable sums
Are added up. And there is always war.