The Herods of TodayA Herod, fearful for his throne,Commanded in his dayHis hireling band in Bethlehem,The little babes to slay,Begetting mourning in the land,Thus drenched in infant gore,Of Rachels weeping for their kin,Whom they should see no more.We shrink with horror from the thoughtOf what that Herod did—Yet in our modes of modern lifeAbaddon's form is bid,And though we sadly mourn for thoseWhom he hath borne away,The slaughter of the innocentsGoes on from day to day.Dame Fashion wields the venomed shaftsThese tender plants to kill,While liquor and the cigaretteTheir deadly mission fill—And many modern factoriesAre juggernauts to slay,And sickness ignorance bespreadOut-Herods him today.A thousand forms of needless deathAre stalking through the land,And Herod, in a modern dress,Still issues his commandIn fashion's mandates armed with powerThe race to re-enslave,Till Azrael leads to freedom throughThe pathway of the grave.
W. H. Smith, The Frailties of Humanity, and Other Poems, 1894, The Irving Company, New York, The Herods of Today, 94

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