Page:Slabs of the sunburnt West.djvu/25

Rh footsteps of the jungle, the fang cry, the rip claw hiss, the slant of the slit eyes waiting. Forgive us if we work so hard And the muscles bunch clumsy on us And we never know why we work so hard — If the big houses with little families And the little houses with big families Sneer at each other's bars of misunderstanding; Pity us when we shackle and kill each other And believe at first we understand And later say we wonder why. Take home the monotonous patter Of the elevated railroad guard in the rush hours: "Watch your step. Watch your step. Watch your step." Or write on a pocket pad what a pauper said To a patch of purple asters at a whitewashed wall: "Let every man be his own Jesus — that's enough."