One Sheaf, One Vine

THE STRANGER WITHIN MY GATE

The stranger within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk – I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind.

The stranger within my gate,
He may be evil or good,
But I cannot tell what powers control – What reasons sway his mood;
Nor when the gods of his far off land,
Shall repossess his blood.

This was my father’s belief,
And this is also mine;
Let the corn be all of one sheaf – And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our childrens’ teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine.

-Rudyard Kipling, Nobel Prize for Literature. (1865 – 1936)[18]