For Small Mercies

Thinking of Poland and her tortured Jews,

'Twixt Goth and Cossack hounded, crucified

On either frontier, e'en the Pale denied,

Wand'ring with bloodied staff and broken shoes,

Scarred like their greatest son with stripe and bruise,

Though thrice a hundred thousand fight beside

Their Russian brethren and are glorified

By death for those who flout them and abuse,—

I suddenly was touched to thankful tears.

Not that one wave had ebbed of all this woe,

Not that one heart had softened in "the spheres"[A]

One touch of bureau-malice to forego,

But that amid blind eyes, dumb mouths, deaf ears,

One voice in England [B] said these things were so.

[A] Only permissible form of Russian reference to the Tsar and his Counsellors.

[B] The London Nation.