 | Voices and visions |  |
63
HYDE PARK ON SUNDAY
In weather matchless for a London March,
I rambled slowly past the Marble Arch.
I rambled slowly past the Marble Arch.
The Common, broad below a silver sun,
Swept its green turf toward misty Kensington.
Swept its green turf toward misty Kensington.
But nearer still, huge pearls of transient clouds
Flung sprays of rainfall on the unheeding crowds.
Flung sprays of rainfall on the unheeding crowds.
Engirt by one, a lean and flame-eyed man
Thundered his theories red-republican.
Thundered his theories red-republican.
In one a scoffer glowered o'er huddled heads,
And tore with sneers the Bible into shreds.
And tore with sneers the Bible into shreds.
Keen through a third some woman's dismal yell
Pictured in vocal daubs a chronic Hell.
Pictured in vocal daubs a chronic Hell.
I sauntered onward. ... ‘Vulgarisms of rant,
Half pompous brawl,’ I mused, ‘half piteous cant!
Half pompous brawl,’ I mused, ‘half piteous cant!
‘For gyves disrupt, for tyrannies defied,
Too many an English life has bled and died
Too many an English life has bled and died
‘That liberty from its ideal should stray
In this licentious and fantastic way!’
In this licentious and fantastic way!’
64
Yet soon like bell-peals that new measures clang,
My altering mood with self-reproaches rang.
My altering mood with self-reproaches rang.
‘Carper,’ I said, ‘in penitence confess
The folly of your own fastidiousness!
The folly of your own fastidiousness!
‘This freedom you deplore with dainty hate
Old England laboured centuries to create.
Old England laboured centuries to create.
‘Let them shout on, in sunshine, rain, or mist,
Fanatic, bigot and sensationalist,
Fanatic, bigot and sensationalist,
‘While clear through all the clamorous webs they weave
Wisdom's authentic voice will sometimes cleave.
Wisdom's authentic voice will sometimes cleave.
‘Better their coarsest babblings than the banes
Of choked opinion, argument in chains;
Of choked opinion, argument in chains;
‘Better their worst of spleens unthralled should fume
Than rankle and fester in a dungeon's gloom.
Than rankle and fester in a dungeon's gloom.
‘Better this wordy warfare, loth to cease,
Than pests of parliamentary police.
Than pests of parliamentary police.
‘Better these lingual wranglings, first and last,
Than chill star-chambers of the purblind past.
Than chill star-chambers of the purblind past.
‘Better Hyde Park on Sunday, though it shock
Taste and decorum, than the Tower and Block.
Taste and decorum, than the Tower and Block.
‘Better loud rights of speech, whate'er the creeds,
Than those vile silences the despot breeds!’
Than those vile silences the despot breeds!’
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