In the Country

 This life is sweetest; in this wood 
I hear no children cry for food; 
I see no woman, white with care; 
No man, with muscled wasting here.


No doubt it is a selfish thing 
To fly from human suffering; 
No doubt he is a selfish man, 
Who shuns poor creatures, sad and wan.


But 'tis a wretched life to face 
Hunger in almost every place; 
Cursed with a hand that's empty, when 
The heart is full to help all men.


Can I admire the statue great, 
When living men starve at its feet! 
Can I admire the park's green tree, 
A roof for homeless misery!

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