The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith :: :: University of Virginia Library

I stood up to speak. At my back was a score
Of broadcloth respectables solemnly stewing,
For the vast hall was filled from the roof to the floor,
And they swarmed, thick as bees, at each window and door,
And I knew, at a glance, that a storm was a-brewing
For my certain undoing.

Yet I stood up to speak. Almost under my feet,
With pencil and notebook, were newspaper men;
Some staid-looking working lads kept the first seat,
Then students and snobs and the cads of the street,
With a woman, perhaps, for each three-score and ten,
And a child, now and then.

I was not ta'en aback, in the least, though I saw
That the meeting was packed with a loud senseless mob,
And standing near by, was a Limb-o'-the-Law
Who rubbed his sleek chin with a vulture-like claw,
And a grin of conceit at the well-managed job,
Which made my pulse throb.

So I stood up to speak. What a greeting I had!
They hooted, yelled, whistled, and cat-called and groaned,
Hissed, jeered at me, howled; cried
“His throat sure is bad!”
“Cough it up!” “Try an orange!” and “Was I not glad
To address my dear friends?” Then they hooted and moaned,
And sang and intoned.

Still I held my ground stoutly; replied as I could,
At times ready-witted, and then got a laugh,
But always good-humoured: I thought that their mood
Would change by and by, when they saw that I stood
With unruffled temper, and bore all the chaff
Of that stormy riff-raff.

I had often stood there with a ringing hurrah!
That greeted each hit; and I would not be beat,
As I watched that long Limb-o'-the-Law looking grey
While he signalled his Claque; so I stood there at bay,
Though the Kentish fire rung out from three thousand feet
With a fierce dust and heat.

But scanning their faces, I saw that the most
Were brainless or beery, or big-jowled, with low

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Brute foreheads, and felt that our cause must be lost
With a white-chokered Chairman as pale as a ghost,
And those broad-cloth respectables, ranged in a row,
Full of dismal dumb-show.

Never mind; I would try; I had lungs that would shout
Like a boatswain's, and ring with the storm at its height;
And I knew people liked me; and half of the rout
Was the clamour of friends who would have me hold out,
Though I had to gesticulate till the daylight
Broke on that stormy night.

So I plucked up my courage, and threw back the hair
From my brow, scanned the Lawyer from top down to toe,
Who gave back my gaze with an impudent stare;
Then I nodded, and smiled to my friends here and there,
While I watched the dim crowd as it swayed to and fro,
Seeming wilder to grow.

Now, a score of cocks crew, as to welcome the day,
Then a wild caterwauling of cats in the dark
Through the galleries ran; then a donkey would bray,
Or dogs yelped and howled in a horrible way,
As if all the creatures shut up in the Ark
Came to yell, scream, or bark.

After that arose a chorus of “God save the Queen,”
With a tramping of boots keeping time. How the dust
Rose in clouds, until hardly a face could be seen!
How they roared themselves hoarse! What a coughing between
Each verse as they sang out of tune! for they must
Clear their throats of the rust.

It was all in the programme, of course; so I stood
And patiently edged in a word here and there,
Now lost in the clamour, now half-understood,
Now caught by the grinning reporters, now good,
But as often bad; and I did not much care;
It was spent on the air.

Should I try any longer? What hope there to speak
Words of reason to men who all reason eschew?
Highest truths to such ears were but Hebrew and Greek,
And logic no more than the doors when they creak,
And pathos like wind in a cranny that blew;
And they'd laugh at it too.

Leave the fools to the fate they are fain to provoke!
They will know what it is in the coming distress,
When they've damped down the furnace, and cleared off the smoke,
And emptied the yards, and begin then to croak
That taxes grow bigger as wages grow less,
And the hard times press!

Let them be till the workshop is empty and still,
And the clock on the wall does not wag any more,

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And the fire does not burn, though the winter is chill,
And there's nothing to pawn, and there's nothing to fill
The pale and pinched children that cry at the door,
Or squat on the floor!

Just then, looking down, my eye caught in the aisle
A white oval face sweetly turned up to mine,
Lips parted in eagerness, tipped with a smile
As the great purple eyes beamed upon me a while,
Or flashed on the crowd with an anger divine
That warmed me like wine.

'Twas the face I had loved in the House in the Square!
Just that look it had worn when her soul was inspired,
As we read of the heroes of old who could dare
The rage of the Demos, when madness was there,
Or wrath of the gods, when their anger was fired,
And their patience expired.

She had haunted my dreams, as I struggled to rise,
She had cheered me in vision, what time I had failed,
And now there she sat, and I saw in her eyes
The fond love of youth without let or disguise,
Till she wist that I saw it, and trembled and quailed,
And the glowing face paled.

Then I said in my heart: “No, I will not be beat;
She shall not regret to have trusted me so;
I have stood for an hour in the roar and the heat,
I will stand till the day dash its light at my feet;
But she shall not go home with her faith sinking low
In the dear long ago.

That moment a lull came, and stir near the door;
Some were weary of shouting, some went out for beer;
So I slipt in a joke, setting some in a roar,
Then a story that tickled their humour; that o'er,
For one that still hissed, there were twenty cried Hear!
And my way was all clear.

But my blood now was up: Ware! my Limb-o'-the-Law!
Who would drown voice of reason with clamour and shout;
With the laugh on my side now, at each hit I saw
His cheek grew more livid, his vulture-like claw
Twitch and clutch at the chin it went feeling about,
As my wrath was poured out.

“'Twas the way of all Tyrants to gag our free speech,
And the sign of a bad cause to shrink from debate;
Let them look to their freedom when those who should preach
Law and order, brought rowdies whom nothing could teach,
Beered up to the lips, to roar like a spate,
Drowning truth which they hate.”

Then I tossed him aside, and took up the great theme
Of Justice and Peace, till they thrilled at my words;

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Yet I saw but the flush on her face, and the gleam
Of the great purple eyes, as she drank in the stream
That reasoned against the unreason of swords
For man's law, and the Lord's.

“There was a wild madness abroad in the air,
A longing for war which the rulers had nursed;
They had roused up the wild beast that still had his lair
In the civilised heart, without cause that would bear
The quarrel of nations; and with a blood-thirst
The land was accursed.”

Then I sat down at last, 'mid a ringing Hurrah!
And kindly pet names, and a hum of content,
As the motion was carried; and hasting away,
I watched by the great door, and stood in the grey
Watery light of the moon, till the last of them went—
Very weary and spent.

I peered at each veiled face, but met not her gaze,
Poked my head in each bonnet, but she was not there,
Saw white figures point at me, heard whispered praise,
And remarks on my pluck from a cab or a chaise;
But my heart sank within me in very despair,
And I heard unaware.

I had seen her once more, but to lose her again,
Through the storm she had burst like a sunblink on me;
And the joy of young Love flushed my heart and my brain,
Like a fresh aftermath breathing sweet after rain,
With all the birds singing on bush and tree—
And now where was she?

Could my eyes have played false? Could there be a mistake?
No; there was none else with those wonderful eyes,
And there was none else in the world that could make
My heart so to flutter and beat for her sake,
And there was none else could my soul so surprise
With dear memories.

Later on in the night I sat by the fire,
Alone, and in silence, my heart very low,
All the triumph gone out in a longing desire,
As I saw the moon pale, and her glory expire
In the dull drizzling rain falling steady and slow,
When the wind ceased to blow.

I mused on the past; on the House in the Square,
On the hope that had clung to me all the long years,
Unspoken, 'mid struggle and failure and care;
And now in the hour when I felt I might dare,
She had come—she had gone—as a phantom appears;
And my eyes swam in tears.

Then there came to my door just the faintest of taps,
Like the sound of small fingers that timidly knock;

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“Come in”; I look up, and some moments elapse
In stillness; and then again two or three raps,
But never a movement of latch or of lock
On the dull silence broke.

“Oh, the housemaid, of course; she is wanting to bed;
No wonder, poor drudge!” So I opened the door;
“No supper to-night, Jane,” I wearily said:
But it was not the housemaid I saw: in her stead
Was the white oval face of the sweet days of yore,
Gazing at me once more.

I breathed a long breath: was I dreaming? or what?
Tongue-tied there I stood, as if bound by a spell:
Then she dropped me a curtsey; still stood on the mat;
Called me “Sir”; and “Felt sure I had seen where she sat;
And she could not go home without coming to tell
I did bravely and well.

“Her husband was waiting her out in the street;
And oh she was proud to have heard me that night;
Had her mother but witnessed my triumph complete,
Who had always believed in me!” Then, with a sweet
Smile, she glided away like a ghost out of sight,
Ere my senses came right.

I had been quite bemazed: she had curtseyed to me!
Called me “Sir”—me that would have gone down at her feet,
And grovelled to kiss her wet frock, or to be
Trod upon, for it had been an honour if she
Should use me to carpet the stones on the street,
And go dainty and neat!

Did she speak of a husband? I groaned at the thought,
Sick at heart—I who loved so had never once kissed
Her lips, save in dreams of a happier lot;
And now all my loving and waiting had brought—
What was it?—a vision that passed ere I wist,
Like a vanishing mist.

I rushed out of door, up the street, and then down,
But saw not a form in the dull drizzling rain,
And heard not a footfall: the watch of the town
Flashed his bull's-eye upon me from toe up to crown;
“No, no one had passed”; so I crept home again
In wonder and pain.

She had gone from my life, and its light was all gone;
She had gone from my life, and I saw her no more;
Drip, drip! let it pelt!—it was eerie and lone;
So was I; and my heart lay within me like stone;
And I cared not although the slow pitiless pour
Should drip evermore.