SONGS OF THE ROAD
87
If this man blesses sunshine
Which sets his fields aglow,
Shall that man curse the tempest
That lays his harvest low?
If you may sing His praises
For health He gave to you,
What of this spine-curved cripple,
Shall he sing praises too?
If you may justly thank Him
For strength in mind and limb,
Then what of yonder weakling—
Must he give thanks to Him?
Ah dark, too dark, the riddle!
The tiny brain too small!
We call, and fondly listen,
For answer to that call.
