On Refusal Of Aid Between Nations

Not that the earth is changing, O my God!
Nor that the seasons totter in their walk,—
Not that the virulent ill of act and talk
Seethes ever as a winepress ever trod,—
Not therefore are we certain that the rod
Weighs in thine hand to smite thy world; though now
Beneath thine hand so many nations bow,
So many kings:—not therefore, O my God!—
But because Man is parcelled out in men
To-day; because, for any wrongful blow
No man not stricken asks, “I would be told
Why thou dost thus;” but his heart whispers then,
“He is he, I am I.” By this we know
That our earth falls asunder, being old.

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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