Page:Slabs of the sunburnt West.djvu/24

10 And the footsteps of the jungle, The fang cry, the rip claw hiss, The sneak-up and the still watch, The slant of the slit eyes waiting — If these bother respectable people with the right crimp in their napkins reading breakfast menu cards — forgive us — let it pass — let be. If cripples sit on their stumps And joke with the newsies bawling, "Many lives lost! many lives lost! Ter-ri-ble ac-ci-dent! many lives lost! " — If again twelve men let a woman go, " He done me wrong; I shot him " — Or the blood of a child's head Spatters on the hub of a motor truck — Or a 44-gat cracks and lets the skylights Into one more bank messenger — Or if boys steal coal in a railroad yard And run with humped gunny sacks While a bull picks off one of the kids And the kid wriggles with an ear in cinders And a mother comes to carry home A bundle, a limp bundle, To have his face washed, for the last time, Forgive us if it happens — and happens again- And happens again. Forgive the jazz timebeat of clumsy mass shadows,