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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384601" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Black Sheep</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'<br>'Yes, sir-yes, sir: three bags full.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I don't want any New Thought,' said he,<br>'Or any Theosophy, for, you see,<br>The faith I learned at my mother's knee<br>Is good enough for me.<br>Of course, I'm a wee bit broader than she,<br>Hearing one sermon where she heard three,<br>And I read my paper on Sunday, instead<br>Of the Bible only. My mother said<br>I was a black sheep, when she saw<br>I strayed a trifle away from the law,<br>And didn't think everyone left in the lurch<br>Who happened to go to a different church;<br>But, still, in the main, her creed is mine,<br>And I don't want anything more divine.'<br>Yet his mother's mother was more austere;<br>She taught her children a creed of fear,<br>And she called them 'black sheep' when, with a shock,<br>She saw them straying away from the flock,<br>Just far enough<br>To get around places they thought too rough,<br>Like infant damnation and endless hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But his mother's mother's mother would tell<br>How her mother thought it was God's sweet will<br>To punish and torture a heretic till<br>They drove out the devil that made him dare<br>Think for himself in the matter of prayer<br>And faith and salvation. So we see how it is<br>If we look back over the centuries-<br>The creeds men learned at their mother's knee<br>When Salem witches were hanged to a tree,<br>And the pious dames flocked thither to see,<br>Are not deemed Christian or holy to-day;<br>And the bold black sheep who went straying away<br>From rut-worn paths in their search for God,<br>And leaped over the fence into pastures broad,<br>Are the great trail-makers for mortal souls,<br>Leading the race up to higher goals<br>And a larger religion; where man must find<br>God dwelling ever within his mind,<br>Christ in his conduct, and heaven in his thought,<br>And hell but the places where love is not.<br>A mighty religion that makes this earth<br>But the cradle that fits us for death's new birth<br>And the life beyond it, that is so near<br>Its echoes may reach to the listening ear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'<br>'Yes, sir-yes, sir: a whole world full.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=384601" data-title="The Black Sheep de Ella Wheeler Wilcox" data-description="'Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool?'
'Yes, sir-yes, sir: three bags full.'

'I don't want any New Thought,' said he,
'Or any Theosophy, for, you see,
The faith I learned at my mother's knee
Is good enough for me.
Of course, I'm a wee bit..."></div>
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