Nature unfettered by man's civic need, Swirls flake on flake of wonder-working snow, Until the city's life goes muffled, slow, And each house worships fire -- its primal creed. Then poverty is called. Its armies speed, -- Feet tied in rags, hands bare that puffed cheeks blow -- To fight white barricades and traffic's foe. Ho! empty stomachs! You at last may feed. Preposterous world! The freezing serve the warm. The laborer walks to work while idlers ride; And thin, pinched bellies longest go unfed. Clean streets are bare of children; foul streets swarm. The lame run races and the blind men guide. Great God! Is this the world for which Christ bled? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO MALTA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ULYSSES AND THE SIREN by SAMUEL DANIEL MEN WHO MARCH AWAY' (SONG OF THE SOLDIERS) by THOMAS HARDY A DIALOGUE (FOR A BASE AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |