Page:Slabs of the sunburnt West.djvu/24

And the footsteps of the jungle,
The fang cry, the rip claw hiss,
The sneak-up and the still watch,
The slant of the slit eyes waiting —
If these bother respectable people
with the right crimp in their napkins
reading breakfast menu cards —
forgive us — let it pass — let be.
If cripples sit on their stumps
And joke with the newsies bawling,
"Many lives lost! many lives lost!
Ter-ri-ble ac-ci-dent! many lives lost! " —
If again twelve men let a woman go,
" He done me wrong; I shot him " —
Or the blood of a child's head
Spatters on the hub of a motor truck —
Or a 44-gat cracks and lets the skylights
Into one more bank messenger —
Or if boys steal coal in a railroad yard
And run with humped gunny sacks
While a bull picks off one of the kids
And the kid wriggles with an ear in cinders
And a mother comes to carry home
A bundle, a limp bundle,
To have his face washed, for the last time,
Forgive us if it happens — and happens again-
And happens again.

Forgive the jazz timebeat
of clumsy mass shadows,