 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
SOCIAL DEMOCRAT TO NIHILIST.
Brothers, from the icy forges,
Where the Russian winters hold
Evermore their cruel orgies,
Hammering out the killing cold—
Hammering out the lives of mortals
Trodden low by iron heel,
Driven from the tyrant's portals
Friendless to the friendlier steel;
Put no faith in prince, or others
Who would trade upon your ill,
Only wait—are we not brothers?—
We are waiting still.
Where the Russian winters hold
Evermore their cruel orgies,
Hammering out the killing cold—
Hammering out the lives of mortals
Trodden low by iron heel,
Driven from the tyrant's portals
Friendless to the friendlier steel;
Put no faith in prince, or others
Who would trade upon your ill,
Only wait—are we not brothers?—
We are waiting still.
Patient be, and measures bolder
Cast with rich and ruddy seed,
Till you feel us at your shoulder
Fighting, in the hour of need;
Freedom, votes, and constitution,
Which no despot would indite,
Can be won by revolution,
With a pinch of dynamite;
Long that too paternal Father
Gives you pap from wooden spoon;
Meat of suffrage, would you rather?—
We are coming soon.
Cast with rich and ruddy seed,
Till you feel us at your shoulder
Fighting, in the hour of need;
429
Which no despot would indite,
Can be won by revolution,
With a pinch of dynamite;
Long that too paternal Father
Gives you pap from wooden spoon;
Meat of suffrage, would you rather?—
We are coming soon.
Liberty its will hath spoken
From a thousand martyrs' graves,
Chains Siberian may be broken
By Divinity in slaves;
Rulers, subjects do not differ,
Fashioned equally of dust,
If in bondage we walk stiffer,
If the others gild their lust;
Tired of generals, who swagger
More, the more your fortune lours,
Whet your purpose and your dagger—
We are sharpening ours.
From a thousand martyrs' graves,
Chains Siberian may be broken
By Divinity in slaves;
Rulers, subjects do not differ,
Fashioned equally of dust,
If in bondage we walk stiffer,
If the others gild their lust;
Tired of generals, who swagger
More, the more your fortune lours,
Whet your purpose and your dagger—
We are sharpening ours.
Change, that laughs at law and manners,
Tossing monarch's head on pike,
Waves at length victorious banners
Over hands that wait to strike;
Change, redressing wrongs, the Giant,
Bringing better things to be,
Smiles upon the self-reliant,
Simply daring to be free;
Nihilists, who know the prison,
Shake the jailor's purple pride,
Wait a little, till arisen
With the rising tide.
Tossing monarch's head on pike,
Waves at length victorious banners
Over hands that wait to strike;
Change, redressing wrongs, the Giant,
Bringing better things to be,
Smiles upon the self-reliant,
Simply daring to be free;
Nihilists, who know the prison,
Shake the jailor's purple pride,
Wait a little, till arisen
With the rising tide.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |