Excerpt from Poet Lore, 1936, Vol. 43: A Magazine of Letters God Is raised; soon will He smite thee and thy people. Behold, the sea is rising, the Spirit of Retribution rides on its waves. Your beautiful city Of Is will be swallowed up. Its people will not be awakened; they will not cease from their orgies, reason is a stranger to their heated brains. All delay, all efforts to save them are but madness. Better that they perish, they who have scoffed and who have scorned our warnings, our entreaties, our prayers. There is yet time; let us go; follow me!

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