This is rather a bleak poem about the fact that despite the resources at our disposal, we still live in a world where famine and poverty stalk the world, and nothing every seems to be able to change it. C.P. Snow's words still ring true:
"The great majority of the population don't get enough to eat; and, from the time they are born, their chances of life are less than half of ours, These are crude words, but we are talking about crude things, toil, hunger, death. For most of our brother men, this is the social condition."
This poem looks at a world where there is no good shepherd, and plenty of want, and the sheep are lost, a world that is a mirror of the one of the hymn with pastures green, and still waters, and one which displays very little goodness and mercy.
I see a world of poverty, and want
Where politicians lie
There is no food, they say to me
As quietly people die
How does it happen time again
A world so broken, full of take
Strayed off the paths of righteousness
And all the poor forsake
And how can we help, and yet prevail
The world has caught a chill
And all is lost, and breaks the rod
There is no comfort still.
The table bare of food to see
Hunger and want are foes
Then famine does with death anoint
And thirst so overflows
The darkest mirror ending life
Shall surely follow me;
And in despair now ever more
My dwelling place shall be.
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