I see a mighty junk-heap rising high,

Old bibles, crosses, crescents, six-point stars

And other symbols, idol’s fetiches—

The bloody tools of greed and superstition,

That have tormented man for centuries,

Disfiguring his body and his mind.

I see the flags of all the various nations,

In whose defense men slaughtered one another

Upon this junk-heap also; and the books

Wherein the laws are writ, that give to man

The power over man;

And all the institutions that have helped

To make of man an abject slave or tyrant,

These, too, are on this junk-heap.