Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THEY ARE THE SAME, by PRISCILLA JANE THOMPSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THEY ARE THE SAME, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: God's blessings all are uniform
Last Line: A soul, is gathered home.
Subject(s): Racial Equality


GOD'S blessings all are uniform,
To each, to every one;
Within yon manse, within yon cot;
An infant son is come.

The same sweet, childish, innocence,
Alike in both, I see,
As calmly in their cribs they sleep;
The soul of purity.

Each, by his pure, sweet, innocence,
Can harshest moods bewitch --
They are the same, they are the same,
Albeit, one is rich.

I see them now to prattlers grown;
What say you now? The same?
Can earthly vice, so soon pollute?
It can and more's the shame.

They meet each other on the street;
By nurse and mother, led;
Alas! though rods have intervened,
They turn their little head.

'Though each by other's scrutinized,
By blinded infant eyes,
Who dare gainsay, what there they saw,
Is looked for, by the wise?

For each by each's attire behold,
What grown up people see:
That one is in the realm of wealth,
And one's in poverty.

And straight-way, in each little heart,
A smoldering vice appears,
To wrankle in each tender breast,
And kindle more with years.

'Though one's the germ of vanity,
And one is envy's sting,
As yet, a common lot they share,
For each has now a sin.

A sin, that turns the rich boy's gifts,
To bitterness, to hate;
At such a feeble offering,
To one so passing great.

A sin, that turns the poor boy's gifts,
To bitterness, to gall;
At thought of numerous costly gifts,
And his so cheap and small.

And thus, with discontent each barque,
Adown the stream doth drift --
They are the same, they are the same,
Albeit one is rich.

And now to bearded men they've grown;
And sobered down with cares,
Of guiding ever erring feet,
Which wander more with years.

And fervent prayers, for wayward son,
Each to their God uplifts --
They are the same, they are the same,
Albeit, one is rich.

And now, old age steals on to them;
And life draws to its goal;
Each one has had his many sins,
How fares it with their soul?

Each, to the same just Maker turns;
Each craves a common lot;
To rest where He, his children bids,
And said, "Forbid them not."

God's blessings all are uniform,
To each, to every one;
And from yon manse, and from yon cot,
A soul, is gathered home.







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