When I Was an Editor
So maudlin, with pity and pathos I stood
If someone who erred got the lashes;
If hanged, I'd weep over the ashes.
With vocal dispraise such injustice I viewed
But somehow as soon as the war-craze ensued,
When slaughter en masse was the popular mood
And corpses all over the planet were strewed,
With dumb indecision I stood.
For there was the problem of friendships and food
- One's sympathies nobody cashes.
To dampen my conscience-clashes
The cracks in my honor I artfully glued
With unctuous lies that I hastily brewed
- And cheered just as loud as I could.
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Comments about this poem (When I Was an Editor by Stephan Stephansson )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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