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A poem by Richard Le Gallienne |
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The Cry Of The Little Peoples |
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Title: The Cry Of The Little Peoples Author: Richard Le Gallienne [More Titles by Le Gallienne] The Cry of the Little Peoples went up to God in vain; We ask but a little portion of the green, ambitious earth; We ask not coaling stations, nor ports in the China seas, We have learned the lesson of Time, and we know three things of worth; O leave us little margins, waste ends of land and sea, O leave us our little rivers that sweetly catch the sky, Once long ago, as you, with hollow pursuit of fame, But now are we glad to rest, our battles and boasting done, Of this O will ye rob us,--with a foolish mighty hand, So might a boy rejoice him to conquer a hive of bees, So might a cruel heart hear a nightingale singing alone, Yea, he were mighty indeed, mighty to crush and to gain; And what shall you gain if you take us and bind us and beat us with thongs, Forbid us the very use of our heart's own nursery tongue-- Your vulgar battles to fight, and your grocery conquests to keep, What gain in the day of battle--to the Russ, to the German, what gain, The Cry of the Little Peoples goes up to God in vain, The hand that would bless us is weak, and the hand that would break us is strong, The dreams that our fathers dreamed to-day are laughter and dust, Let us hope no more, or dream, or prophesy, or pray, Yea! nothing is left but to watch, with a helpless, pitying eye, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |