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