If I had hatred in my heart toward my fellow
man,
If I were pressed to do him ill, to conjure up a
plan
To wound him sorely and to rob his days of all
their joy,
I'd wish his wife would go away and take their
little boy.
I'd waste no time on curses vague, nor try to
take his gold,
Nor seek to shatter any plan that he might
dearly hold.
A crueler revenge than that for him I would
bespeak:
I'd wish his wife and little one might leave him
for a week.
I'd wish him all the loneliness that comes with
loss of those
Who fill his life with laughter and contentment
and repose.
I'd wish him empty rooms at night and mocking
stairs to squeak
That neither wife nor little boy will greet him
for a week.
If I despised my fellow man, I'd make my
hatred known
By wishing him a week or two of living all
alone;
I'd let him know the torture that is mine to
bear to-day,
For Buddy and his mother now are miles and
miles away.
{174}