In a Psychopathic Ward

You, sir! let me out!
All I did was to kill him.
Then they said I was mad,
And put me here in a cell.

But should not death or hell
Or some requital still him
Who walks the earth with twenty coats
Yet gives the naked none?
For every stinted soul of earth
I struck. It had to be done.

To the judge who sent me here
I said: 'Yourself, answer!
Are the sane those who have plenty,
Yet let the needy die?
Are the mad those who would try
To destroy the greedy cancer
Of useless wealth that battens upon
A useful body and soul?
I tell you they are the maddest
Whose money has no goal!'

And I would kill them all—
Save you—if you are one.
You have kind lips and eyes:
I think you have seen God.
I see but the lightning-rod
Of the church-spire fixed stealthy
Yonder, to run His wrath down
Cunningly into earth.
But if you will let me out,
They'll learn what lightning's worth!