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A poem by Edgar Lee Masters |
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The Helping Hand |
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Title: The Helping Hand Author: Edgar Lee Masters [More Titles by Masters] Mother, my head is bloody, my breast is red with scars. Mother, my soul is crucified, my thirst is past belief. Mother, I feel the terror and the loveliness of life. Mother, your face is but a face among a million more. I lean against the wall, mother, and struggle hard for breath. Mother, my soul is weary, where is the way to God? [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |