Justice, justice, justice!
Where art thou? ye Stewarth?
Justice is the very warmth of an inn,
When interred from the bitter slippery, frosty storm.
Justice is the norm.
It's illusive to the door, like a very fastened door,
Cannot be entrusted to flurry mind.
Justice must be mandated.
With justice the waves are calm,
There is never a harm.
No one needs justice until
They themselves are imprisoned.
Justice is not heresy,
It's the healing of the soul.
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Comments about this poem (Justice by Archie Greenidge )
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(23 July 1823 - 26 November 1896)
Walter de la Mare
(1873 - 1958)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)