Children of the atom, gather here:
Look at the light that brightens, that coalesces,
And look on life, and all that it blesses,
With joy and laughter, and without fear.
Listen, listen to the clarion call, do you hear?
Oh! Beauty of God, nature confesses,
Is that which feeds me, that which caresses
And comforts me, is the cloth that wipes away the tear.
But man has pressed, has stomped, has killed,
And the fragile beauty bends like palms
In the wind. Countless drops of blood spilled
All in the name of progress. If you think the charms
Of the occasional sensitive is enough, then you are filled
With more than just lies: the suicidals will be thrilled.