CALIBAN IN THE COAL MINES

God, we do n't like to complain

We know that the mine is no lark —

But — there's the pools from the rain;

But — there's the cold and the dark.

God, You do n't know what it is —

You, in Your well-lighted sky,

Watching the meteors whizz;

Warm, with the sun always by.

God, if You had but the moon

Stuck in Your cap for a lamp,

Even You'd tire of it soon,

Down in the dark and the damp.

Nothing but blackness above,

And nothing that moves but the cars —

God, if You wish for our love,

Fling us a handful of stars!