Is this a holy thing to see, In a rich and fruitful land, Babes reduced to misery, Fed with cold and usurous hand? Is that trembling cry a song? Can it be a song of joy? And so many children poor? It is a land of poverty! And their sun does never shine, And their fields and bleak & bare, And their ways are fill'd with thorns; It is eternal winter there. For where-e'er the sun does shine, And where-e'er the rain does fall, Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOCIOLOGY OF TOYOTAS AND JADE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEN AND NOW by CECIL DAY LEWIS INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN THE LAST MAN'S CLUB by JAMES GALVIN WOMAN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BOOK OF STONES AND LILIES by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: SHACK DYE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |