A Spring Harvest/To the Cultured
TO THE CULTURED
Sons of culture, God-given,First offspring of Heaven,Athletic and tanned,Well-built and not nervous,With your golf and your tweedsAnd your "noble editions,"Quiet lives and few needs(Say a thousand a year For your earthly career)Who can't understandDiscontent and seditions,May Heaven preserve us From being like you.
What are we, what am I?Poor rough creatures, whose lifeIs "depressing" and "grey,"Is a heart-breaking strifeWith death and with shameAnd your polite laughter,Till—the world pass awayIn smoke and in flame, And some of us die,And some live on afterTo build it anew.