Anons, post your favorite /pol/-tier poems.

The Stranger:
"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 men of my own stock,
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wanted to,
They are used to the lies I tell;
And we do not need interpreters
When we go to buy or sell.

The Stranger within my gates,
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.

The men of my own stock,
Bitter bad they may be,
But, at least, they hear the things I hear,
And see the things I see;
And whatever I think of them and their likes
They think of the likes of me.

This was my father's belief
And this is also mine:
Let the corn be all one sheaf--
And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our children's teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine."

– Rudyard Kipling

"When, long ago,
the gods created Earth
In Jove's fair image
Man was shaped at birth.
The beasts for lesser parts
were next designed;
Yet they were too remote
from humankind.
To fill the gap,
and join the rest of Man,
Th'Olympian host
conceiv'd a clever plan.
A beast they wrought,
in semi-human figure,
Filled it with vice, and
called the thing a Nigger."

– H. P. Lovecraft

THE WRATH OF THE AWAKENED SAXON:

"It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late
With long arrears to make good,
When the Saxon began to hate.

They were not easily moved,
They were icy-willing to wait
Till every count should be proved,
Ere the Saxon began to hate.

Their voices were even and low,
Their eyes were level and straight.
There was neither sign nor show,
When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not preached to the crowd,
It was not taught by the State.
No man spoke it aloud,
When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not suddenly bred,
It will not swiftly abate,
Through the chill years ahead,
When Time shall count from the date
That the Saxon began to hate."

– Rudyard Kipling