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To the Editors of the CRIMSON:
At the request of the Wesleyan Strike Committee as well as from his own conviction my husband wrote the enclosed poem yesterday. It will appear first in the STRIKE NEWS here. Since our family has long been associated with Harvard and our son is a graduating senior. I feel that I must send it along to you in hopes that it might be of use in your local situation.
TO THE STRIKERS
Go talk to those who are rumored to be unlike you,
And whom, it is said, you are so unlike.
Stand on the stoops of their houses and tell them why.
You are out on strike.
It is not yet time for the rock, the bullet, the blunt
Slogan which fuddles the mind toward force.
Let the new sound in our streets be the patient sound.
Of your discourse.
Doors will be shut in your faces, I do not doubt.
Yet here and there, I think, there may start.
Much as the lights blink on in a block at evening,
Changes of heart.
They are your houses; the people are not unlike you.
Talk with them, then, and let it be done.
Even for the Grey wife of your nightmare sheriff
And the guardsman's son.
I wish you luck and pray that we may all be united at this terrible but hopeful moment.
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