 | My Lyrical Life |  |
THE LORDS OF LAND AND MONEY.
Lift up your faces from the sod;
Frown with each furrowed brow;
Gold apes a mightier power than God,
And wealth is worshipped now!
In all these toil-ennobled lands
You have no heritage;
They snatch the fruit of Youthful hands,
The staff from weary Age.
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money—
They shall not kill the Poor like Bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
Frown with each furrowed brow;
Gold apes a mightier power than God,
And wealth is worshipped now!
In all these toil-ennobled lands
You have no heritage;
They snatch the fruit of Youthful hands,
The staff from weary Age.
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money—
They shall not kill the Poor like Bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
Through long dark years of blood and tears,
We've toiled like branded Slaves,
Till Wrong's red hand hath made a land
Of Paupers, Prisons, Graves!
But our long-sufferance endeth now;
Within the souls of men
The fruitful buds of promise blow,
And Freedom lives again!
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the Poor like Bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
We've toiled like branded Slaves,
Till Wrong's red hand hath made a land
Of Paupers, Prisons, Graves!
But our long-sufferance endeth now;
Within the souls of men
The fruitful buds of promise blow,
And Freedom lives again!
O tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the Poor like Bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
234
Too long have Labour's Nobles knelt
Before factitious “Rank”;
Within our souls the iron is felt—
In tune our fetters clank!
A glorious voice goes throbbing forth
From millions stirring now,
Who yet before these Gods of earth
Shall stand with lifted brow,
And tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the Poor like Bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
Before factitious “Rank”;
Within our souls the iron is felt—
In tune our fetters clank!
A glorious voice goes throbbing forth
From millions stirring now,
Who yet before these Gods of earth
Shall stand with lifted brow,
And tell them in their Palaces,
These Lords of Land and Money!
They shall not kill the Poor like Bees,
To rob them of Life's honey.
| My Lyrical Life | |