Hate Thou Not Any Man

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Title:     Hate Thou Not Any Man
Author: Edward Doyle [More Titles by Doyle]

Hate thou not any man, for at the worst,
He still is brother. Will a glance not find
Whole peoples alchemied from heart and mind
To steal projectiles by a craft, accursed
By Human Nature? Aye, for, as they burst
At dusk, or midnight, slamming Heaven behind
And crashing Hell wide open, 'tis mankind
Is shattered and quick-gulping grave slake thirst.

Hate thou no man, but scorn all crafts, that smelt
The heart and mind for huge projectiles, shattered
When bursting grandly that some pride be flattered.
Nature beholds not Saxon, Slav, nor Celt;
She only sees the Human fragments scattered,
And, covering them, her eyes to rivers melt.

[The end]
Edward Doyle's poem: Hate Thou Not Any Man

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