This life is sweetest; in this wood I hear no children cry for food; I see no woman, white with care; No man, with muscles wasting here. No doubt it is a selfish thing To fly from human suffering; No doubt he is a selfish man, Who shuns poor creatures sad and wan. But 'tis a wretched life to face Hunger in almost every place; Cursed with a hand that's empty, when The heart is full to help all men. Can I admire the statue great, When living men starve at its feet! Can I admire the park's green tree, A roof for homeless misery! When I can see few men in need, I then have power to help by deed, Nor lose my cheerfulness in pity -- Which I must do in every city. For when I am in those great places, I see ten thousand suffering faces; Before me stares a wolfish eye, Behind me creeps a groan or sigh. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON GOING UNNOTICED by ROBERT FROST SONGO RIVER; CONNECTING LAKE SEBAGO AND LONG LAKE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE HILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WRITTEN IN IRELAND by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK INVITED GUESTS by FRANCES EKIN ALLISON VERSES WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF AN OLD VISITATION COPY OF ARMS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SUMMER SONG: 1 by GEORGE BARKER |