Triad

Science, that makes wheels turn, cities grow,
Moribund people live on, playthings increase,
But has fallen from hope to confusion at her own business
Of understanding the nature of things; new Russia,
That stood a moment at dreadful cost half free,
Beholding the open, all the glades of the world
On both sides of the trap, and resolutely
Walked into the trap that has Europe and America;
The poet, who wishes not to play games with words,
His affair being to awake dangerous images
And call the hawks; they all feed the future, they serve God,
Who is very beautiful, but hardly a friend of humanity.