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Article # 88
The Cold Within

Author: Unknown    Posted on: Tuesday, April 6, 2004
General Article | 1 comments  | Post your comment

[The poem, ' The Cold Withiní, by an unknown author, brings out our illogical thoughts and the disasters, that flow as the consequence, all arising out of the feelings of hatred and bias, the removal of which is one of the basic tenets of Freemasonry.

Let me point out that besides Brotherly Love and Relief taught to us as the bedrock of the fraternity, we have been exhorted that the useful lessons of natural equality and mutual dependence have instructed us in the active principles of universal beneficense and charity and that extended to seek the solace of our own distress, by extending relief and consolation to our fellow creatures in the hour of affliction. If those teachings along with the others taught to us by Freemasonry are practised by us all, the world will certainly be a better place to live in and all the children of the Most High will enjoy, Brotherly Love, Equality and the Dignity of the individual. We are very thankful to Bro. Uwe Riches of Germany for placing the poem for the benefit of all right thinking persons.

Please read on .....

Webmaster]

The Cold Within

Six humans trapped by happenstance
in dark and bitter cold
Each possessed a stick of wood--
Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,
but the first one held hers back,
For, of the faces around the fire,
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking 'cross the way
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes
He gave his coat a hitch,
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store,
And keeping all that he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For he saw in his stick of wood
A chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain,
Giving just to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

Their sticks held tight in
death's stilled hands
Was proof enough of sin;
They didn't die from cold without--
They died from cold within.



Click Here To Post Your Comment

mwyatt wrote on Saturday, October 21, 2006:

Subject: author of poem

The poem was written by James Patrick Kinney in the mid 1970's.



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