Explore "The Cry of the Unfit" by Voltairine De Cleyre on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The gods have left us, the creeds have crumbled; / There are none to pity and none to care: / Our fellows have crushed us where we have stumbled; / They have made of our bodies a bleeding stair.
Loud rang the bells in the Christmas steeples; / We heard them ring through the bitter morn: / The promise of old to the weary peoples / Came floating sweetly -- "Christ is born."