=To the Masters=


You drive your beasts of burden forth to
drink?
You herd your oxen, each one in his stall?
You whip and goad until they heed your call?
You own, and use? Are these your cattle?
Think!
Although the while they cringe to you and
shrink.
And watch their fate in your least finger fall,
Mistake not, lest they rise and ravage all,
And your vast piled-up power to chaos sink!

The earthquake gives slight time to ward its
shock;
But racks the earth, nor warns of where or
when;
The hurricane that makes the city rock,
Speaks not with previous voice unto your ken;
Vesuvius and Aetna horror mock,
And tidal waves. Think: These you crush are
Men!