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Mrs D:C. Mecneir 2043 Pendrill St.

Vancouver,

Cenada

IT IS NOT ENOUGH

Since, in a Moscow hosnital You cried "Abyssinial" Barbusse, And died.--- we have remembered.

The hot molten liquid Of words poured out in hope And defeet---these have burned us.

And now, taking stock of ourselves, nemembering your friend in song, Lorca, shot like a dog---

Remembering thin tunics in Spain Words riddle4_from the mouths Of men by man—made steel,

Remembering the Czechs beaten To their knees without A fight, gagged by the wayside,

Now we know our strength Ens been as the strength of one, Our will as weter, our words

Not bitter shafts of light Strikinr the neonle: echoes Only, of words to be seid.

Now we know setbacks, know We have not done enough with your cry And your life in action.

Energy has been spilled On the floor, not conserved In a glass jar for winter)

Struggle has been blind Relying too much on the fist Bered to the teeth of gundx.

Now we know as Francis Knew, and Michael, both Smothered in Spanish soil:

It is not And sure, It is not

enough to be nroud shouting defiance; enough to ignore

The enemy's cunning, his sheer Weight of steel and mountains Of iron and chromium

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