Henry Lawson Poem by Gajanan Mishra

Henry Lawson, let me call you
from the city's cruel street.
See, my dear poet, within you,
How many faces are there and
what are they doing at a time.
Are we prepared for a war or
going to settle everything
in a peaceful manner that suit all.
That is all in doubt, my dear.
We are willing to stay in a
safe place but want not to
sacrifice anything that are with us.
How wonder! we are living with others
but keeping our self-interest intact.
Is it not preparing for blood bath?