All English Sonnets
Behold the peasant toiling in the dirt,
The cowherd, heading cows in the meadows,
The coolie perspiring in his shirt,
Unseeingly, espying every shadow,
The humiliated wife or daughter- in- law
With every vestige of her ego crashed,
Behold neglected daughter or unhonored squaw
Behold reviled, beaten, bushed.
They smile at your sequestered ivory towers,
But if you see them closely for a while,
You notice that behind the tattered covers
There is a cyclone raging in the smile
A heap of dynamite behind this ruse,
Stands waiting for someone to light the fuse.