“The Depression,” a poem written by Henry Silverfriend

THE DEPRESSION.
By H.D. Silverfriend.

Lest we forget in future times,
That we had endured such hard lines,
Making a living one and all,
Let this jingle remind, recall:-

Twelve million people do now frown,
Calling for help in city and town,
But aid is slow in coming to them,
Dark clouds burst, with nothing to stem,
The tide of human anguish and pain,
Many are crushed, by officials slain.

They cry for aid, bullets are sent,
Those whose lives they the nation lent,
Speeding the home with hasty retreat,
Are met as they travel with dire defeat.

The world is in travailing stage,
With birth-pangs for the Aquarian Age,
The mother gives life for her boy,
Later awakens with happiness and joy,
When the new-born child shall bring,
To all Utopia, in the Spring.

Rejoice, ye all in mournful strains,
The law re quires sorrow and pains,
For the day shall come when Love shall rule,
In every hamlet on God’s Footstool,-
The depression will vanish in thin air,
Humanity, happy, and everyone Fair.

(Estero, Fla., Dec. 1, 1932.)