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CURSE OF A WASTEFUL WASTED CIVILISATION

A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said 'Write! Write a Nation's curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.' I faltered, taking up the word: 'Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. 'For I am bound by gratitude, By love and blood, To brothers of mine across the sea, Who stretch out kindly hands to me.' 'Therefore,' the voice said, 'shalt thou write My curse to-night. From the summits of love a curse is driven, As lightning is from the tops of heaven.' 'Not so,' I answered. 'Evermore My heart is sore For my own land's sins: for little feet Of children bleeding along the street: 'For parked-up honors that gainsay The right of way: For almsgiving through a door that is Not open enough for two friends to kiss: 'For love of freedom which abates Beyond the Straits: For patriot virtue starved to