My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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A CRY OF THE PEOPLE. |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
A CRY OF THE PEOPLE.
Tossing in torture, the weary World turneth,
To clutch Freedom's robe round her slavery's starkness:
With shame and with shudder, poor Mother! she yearneth
O'er wrongs that are done in her dearth and her darkness.
O gather thy strength up, and crush the Abhorrèd,
Who murder thy poor heart, and drain thy life-springs,
And are crowned but to hide the Cain-brand on their forehead:
Let these be the Last of the Queens and the Kings!
To clutch Freedom's robe round her slavery's starkness:
With shame and with shudder, poor Mother! she yearneth
O'er wrongs that are done in her dearth and her darkness.
O gather thy strength up, and crush the Abhorrèd,
Who murder thy poor heart, and drain thy life-springs,
And are crowned but to hide the Cain-brand on their forehead:
Let these be the Last of the Queens and the Kings!
By the Lovers and Friends we have tenderly cherished,
Who made the Cause soar up like flame at their breath;
Who struggled like Gods met in fight, or have perished
In Poverty's battle, with grim daily death:
By all the dear ones that bitterly plead for us—
Life-flowers tied up in the heart's breaking strings—
Sisters that weep for us—Mothers that bleed for us—
Let these be Last of the Queens and the Kings!
Who made the Cause soar up like flame at their breath;
Who struggled like Gods met in fight, or have perished
In Poverty's battle, with grim daily death:
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Life-flowers tied up in the heart's breaking strings—
Sisters that weep for us—Mothers that bleed for us—
Let these be Last of the Queens and the Kings!
Sun and Rain kindle greenly the graves of our Martyrs,
Ye might not tell where the red blood ran like rain!
But there it burns ever! and heaven's weeping waters
And bleaching suns never can whiten the stain!
Remember the hurtling the Tyrants have wrought us,
And smite till each helm on head flashes and rings!
Life for life, blood for blood, is the lesson they've taught us,
And be these the Last of the Queens and the Kings!
Ye might not tell where the red blood ran like rain!
But there it burns ever! and heaven's weeping waters
And bleaching suns never can whiten the stain!
Remember the hurtling the Tyrants have wrought us,
And smite till each helm on head flashes and rings!
Life for life, blood for blood, is the lesson they've taught us,
And be these the Last of the Queens and the Kings!
Ho! weary Night-watch, is there light on the summit?
Sentinel through the dark, say, is there hope?
For deeper in gloom than the fathom of plummet,
Our Bark through the tempest doth stagger and grope!
“To God's Unforgiven, to Caitiff and Craven—
To Crown and to Sceptre, a cleaving curse clings:
Ye must fling them from deck, would ye steer into Haven,
For Death tracks the Last of the Queens and the Kings!”
Sentinel through the dark, say, is there hope?
For deeper in gloom than the fathom of plummet,
Our Bark through the tempest doth stagger and grope!
“To God's Unforgiven, to Caitiff and Craven—
To Crown and to Sceptre, a cleaving curse clings:
Ye must fling them from deck, would ye steer into Haven,
For Death tracks the Last of the Queens and the Kings!”
| My Lyrical Life | |