Harry Graham (43)

Das Sonntagsgedicht aus »The Motley Muse«:

Harry Graham: Perspective

[»It is sad and humiliating, but true, that our humanity is a matter
of geography.« — The Pall Mall Gazette.]

When told that twenty thousand Japs
   Are drowned in a typhoon,
We feel a trifle shocked, perhaps,
   But neither faint nor swoon.
»Dear me! How tragic!« we repeat;
   »Ah, well! Such things must be!«
Our ordinary lunch we eat
   And make a hearty tea;
Such loss of life (with shame I write)
Creates no loss of appetite!

When on a Rocky Mountain ranch
   Two hundred souls, all told,
Are buried in an avalanche.
   The tidings leave us cold.
»Poor fellows!« we remark. »Poor things!«
   »All crushed to little bits!«
Then go to Bunty Pulls the Strings,
   Have supper at the Ritz,
And never even think again
Of land-slides in the State of Maine!

But when the paper we take in
   Describes how Mr. Jones
Has slipped on a banana-skin
   And broken sev'ral bones,
»Good Heavens! What a world!« we shout
   »Disasters never cease!«
»What is the Government about?«
   »And where are the Police?«
Distraught by such appalling news
All creature comforts we refuse!

Though plagues exterminate the Lapp,
   And famines ravage Spain,
They move us not like some mishap
   To a suburban train.
Each foreign tale of fire or flood,
   How trumpery it grows
Beside a broken collar-stud,
   A smut upon the nose!
For Charity (Alas! how true!)
Begins At Home — and ends there, too!