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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419583" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Grace</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHO is it beams the merriest<br>At killing a man, the laughing one?<br>You are the one I nominate,<br>God of the rivers of Babylon. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A hundred times I've taken the mules<br>And started early through the lane,<br>And come to the broken gate and looked,<br>And there my partner was again,<br>Sitting on top of a sorrel horse<br>And picking the burrs from its matted mane,<br>Saying he thought he'd help me work<br>That field of corn before the rain;<br>And I never spoke of the dollar a day,<br>It's no use causing hired men pain,<br>But slipped it into his hand at dark<br>While he undid the coupling chain;<br>And whistled a gospel tune, and knew<br>He'd join in strong on the refrain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For I would pitch the treble high,<br>'Down at the cross where my Savior died,'<br>And then he rolled along the bass,<br>'There did I bury my sin and pride.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Sinful pride of a hired man!<br>Out of a hired woman born!<br>I'm thinking now how he was saved<br>One day while plowing in the corn.<br>We plowed that steamy morning through,<br>I with the mule whose side was torn,<br>And keeping an eye on the mule I saw<br>That the sun looked high and the man looked worn;<br>I would take him home to dinner with me,<br>And there! my father's dinner horn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The sun blazed after dinner so<br>We sat a while by the maple trees,<br>Thinking of mother's pickles and pies<br>And smoking a friendly pipe at ease.<br>I broached a point of piety,<br>For pious men are quick to tease:<br>Was it really true John dipped his crowd<br>Down in the muddy Jordan's lees? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And couldn't the Baptists backslide too<br>If only they went on Methodist sprees?<br>And finally back to the field we went,<br>The corn was well above my knees,<br>The weeds were more than ankle high,<br>And dangerous customers were these.<br>We went to work in the heat again,<br>I hoped we'd get a bit of breeze<br>And thought the hired man was used<br>To God's most blazing cruelties. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Sundays, the hired man would pray<br>To live in the sunshine of his face;<br>Now here was answer come complete,<br>Rather an overdose of grace! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He fell in the furrow, an honest place<br>And an easy place for a man to fall.<br>His horse went marching blindly on<br>In a beautiful dream of a great fat stall.<br>And God shone on in merry mood,<br>For it was a foolish kind of sprawl,<br>And I found a hulk of heaving meat<br>That wouldn't answer me at all<br>And a fresh breeze made the young corn dance<br>To a bright green, glorious carnival. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And really, is it not a gift<br>To smile and be divinely gay,<br>To rise above a circumstance<br>And smile distressing scenes away? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But this was a thing that I had said,<br>I was so forward and untamed:<br>'I will not worship wickedness<br>Though it be God's--I am ashamed!<br>For all his mercies God be thanked<br>But for his tyrannies be blamed!<br>He shall not have my love alone,<br>With loathing too his name is named.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I caught him up with all my strength<br>And with a silly stumbling tread<br>I dragged him over the soft brown dirt<br>And dumped him down beside the shed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I thought of the prayers the fool had prayed<br>To his God, and I was seeing red,<br>When all of a sudden he gave a heave<br>And then with shuddering--vomited!<br>And God, who had just received full thanks<br>For all his kindly daily bread, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Now called it back again--perhaps<br>To see that his birds of the air were fed.<br>Not mother's dainty dinner now,<br>A rather horrible mess instead,<br>Yet all of it God required of him<br>Before the fool was duly dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Even of deaths there is a choice,<br>I've seen you give a good one, God,<br>But he in his vomit laid him down,<br>Denied the decency of blood. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>If silence from the dead, I swore,<br>There shall be cursing from the quick!<br>But I began to vomit too,<br>Cursing and vomit ever so thick;<br>The dead lay down, and I did too,<br>Two ashy idiots: take your pick!<br>A little lower than angels he made us,<br>(Hear his excellent rhetoric),<br>A credit we were to him, half of us dead,<br>The other half of us lying sick. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The little clouds came Sunday-dressed<br>To do a holy reverence, <br>The young corn smelled its sweetest too,<br>And made him goodly frankincense,<br>The thrushes offered music up,<br>Choired in the wood beyond the fence. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And while his praises filled the earth<br>A solitary crow sailed by,<br>And while the whole creation sang<br>He cawed--not knowing how to sigh.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Crowe+Ransom">John Crowe Ransom</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=419583" data-title="Grace de John Crowe Ransom" data-description="WHO is it beams the merriest
At killing a man, the laughing one?
You are the one I nominate,
God of the rivers of Babylon. 


A hundred times I've taken the mules
And started early through the lane,
And come to the broken gate and looked,
And ther..."></div>
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