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London’s Voices
Speak to Two Souls—Who thus Reply:
I
- IN all my work, in all the children’s play,
- I hear the ceaseless hum of London near;
- It cries to me, I cannot choose but hear
- Its never‐ending wail, by night and day.
- So many millions—is it vain to pray
- That all may win such peace as I have here,
- With books, and work, and little children dear?—
- That flowers like mine may grow along their way?
- Through all my happy life I hear the cry,
- The exceeding bitter cry of human pain,
- And shudder as the deathless wail sweeps by.
- I can do nothing—even hope in vain
- That the bright light of peace and purity
- In those lost souls may ever shine again!
II
- ’Mid pine woods’ whisper and the hum of bees
- I heard a voice that was not bee nor wood:
- ’Here, in the city, Gold has trampled Good.
- Come thou, do battle till this strife shall cease!’
- I left the mill, the meadows and the trees,
- And came to do the little best I could
- For these, God’s poor; and, oh, my God, I would
- I had a thousand lives to give for these!
- What can one hand do ’gainst a world of wrong?
- Yet, when the voice said, ‘Come!’ how could I stay?
- The foe is mighty, and the battle long
- (And love is sweet, and there are flowers in May),
- And Good seems weak, and Gold is very strong;
- But, while these fight, I dare not turn away.
