Ye rich, weep and howl for the miseries that are coming upon you!


Bow’d by the weight of centuries he leans

Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,

The emptiness of ages in his face,

And on his back the burden of the world.


O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,

How will the future reckon with this man?

How answer this brute question in this hour

When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?


How will it be with kingdoms and with kings -

With those who shaped him to the thing he is -

When this dumb Terror shall reply to God

After the silence of the centuries?