POETRY
Posted: Mon Sep 16, 2013 7:07 pm
Campus, by Charles Carreon
The lawns are clean on campus--
The students do not raise a rumpus;
They are busy memorizing
Tales of Uncle Remus.
Of the poor they say,
"We do not see them and
They cannot see us."
To the strong they say,
"Might, I know, makes right--
Give me your hand,
And turn out the light."
To themselves they say,
"You are the child,
You are the heir;
There is no time
To speak of what is fair."
The lawns are clean on campus--
The students do not raise a rumpus;
They are busy memorizing
Tales of Uncle Remus.
Of the poor they say,
"We do not see them and
They cannot see us."
To the strong they say,
"Might, I know, makes right--
Give me your hand,
And turn out the light."
To themselves they say,
"You are the child,
You are the heir;
There is no time
To speak of what is fair."