Classic Poem

" Life is too numerous! " said he,
And rushed into the strife,
With fang and beak and talon red,
With horn and hoof and butting head,
To limit life.

" Life is too numerous, " said he,
And wilder rose the strife;
With crimson war-clouds rolling dense —
Vice, poverty and pestilence —
To limit life.

" Life grows too numerous, " saith she
Who is not built for strife;
" Through me it cometh, swift or slow;
I will decide how fast to grow —
To limit life. "