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THE CRIME

"Small habits well pursued betimes May reach the dignity of crimes."

Was thought the caprice of the gods unknown,

In that dim past when man first stood alone.

From none knows whence and bound for none knows what

The Earth goes spinning tirelessly through space:

And now and then, though heeding not.

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Gives birth to some new species, tribe, or race.

Those ancient men, self-centered then as now,

Began, it seems, according to their creeds,

To worship Nature's shows with prayer and vow

With hope to warp her ends to their own needs.

But when, at last, they saw her as she is,

This "tender, loving Mother of us all".

Impassive Law, devoid of sympathies.

Men ceased upon their knees in prayer to fall

For, understanding much, they guessed the rest,

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