The sirens of the satellites are leaning from their stars,
With the purple-crested princes of old imperial Mars,
The spider kings of Pluto with their lizard-amoured slaves,
The cold, sardonic saurians that rise from Neptune’s waves,
The wing-shod men of Mercury, the pale Uranian knights,
The golden maids of Ganymede aglow with jeweled lights,
The guardians of the galaxies, the Legionaries of Space,
Are watching through their telescopes a self-destroying race.
Some are watching greedily and some with sorrowing eyes,
For some are human-weak and some compassionate and wise,
But all declare unanimously as thought-waves meet and blend,
The earth-men choose the evil road that leads to journey’s end.
Soon there will burst a flower of flame and all the worlds will know
Another race has gone the way that only mad men go.
But on the seared and broken earth a strange new courage springs,
And on the very brink of doom the voice of freedom rings,
The swords of hate fall powerless before the conquering darts,
The quenchless will to brotherhood that glows in simple hearts.
Their song floats through the galaxies as the old earth sways and croons,
And sends her challenging echoing through all the listening moons,
Sheer from the eagle’s battlements, with atom flaming jet,
We’ll blaze the trails of brotherhood, we’ll launch our space-ships yet!

We’ll Launch Our Space-ships Yet by Lilith Lorraine, published in Fantasy Book Number Three, 1948. Sincerely from the heart, but awful anyway. At least it’s not Allen Ginsberg.