My Little Thunders
Here they come like little thunders
Tumbling into class
The old eye sees only blunders
That experience say will pass:
Their clothes are worn wrong
And no melody in their song,
They are outspoken to your face
And carry no banner for the race,
Here they come, my little thunders
Lord, help them not to change.
For we who were once like them
Gave promise to the world
That we would change the old strategem
Before our dreams were hurled
Like broken dishes at our feet,
As we conformed to rename defeat.
Lord, help to destroy all these things
The empty legacies with broken wings
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