I see the tall church steeples, 
They reach so far, so far, 
But the eyes of my heart see the world’s great mart, 
Where the starving people are.

I hear the church bells ringing
Their chimes on the morning air; 
But my soul’s sad ear is hurt to hear
The poor man’s cry of despair.

Thicker and thicker the churches, 
Nearer and nearer the sky –
But alack for their creeds while the poor man’s needs
Grow deeper as years roll by. 

Added: Mar 18 2005 | Viewed: 497 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Poem: Contrasts
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