Classic Poem

The little things, the little restless things,
The base and barren things, the things that spite
The day, and trail processions through the night
Of sad remembrances and questionings;
The poverties, stupidities and stings,
The silted misery, the hovering blight;
The things that block the paths of sound and sight;
The things that snare one's thought and break its wings —

How shall we bear these? we who suffer so
The shattering sacrifice, the huge despair,
The terrors loosed like lightnings on the air
To leave all nature blackened from that curse!
The big things are the enemies we know,
The little things the traitors. Which are worse?