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English Roses

by F. Harald Williams [i.e. F. W. O. Ward]

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STEAM DEVILRY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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STEAM DEVILRY.

Engines and axles and pistons and rods,
Snorting and sporting and sweating away,
Building us Churches and chattels and gods,
Teaching us methodised murder in play;
Yoking the thunder and lightning to steel
Riven and driven to perfected form,
Bidding brute forces walk humbly at heel
Tamed as the fire, and attempering storm;
O ye are mighty though merciless powers
Crashing and thrashing out purpose and plan,
But from the fulness of terrible dowers
Make us a man!
Broaden us charters, and charities weld
Stronger and longer to triumph on time,
Vast as the loves of the heroes of Eld,
Sweeter than music and poems in crime;
Give us an utterance larger than steam,
Ready and steady for problems of night,
Glad to deliver its message or dream,
Leaving all space with its perfume more bright;
Read us the riddle of tears, and the clue
Pleading and leading from blighting and ban
Into a haven of happier blue—
Make us a man!
Boilers and furnaces, wonders in wheels,
Funnels like tunnels a-roaring to hell
Gospels of blood till the universe reels,

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Sick with the smoke and the smother and smell;
Cranks and ye cogs that go working at will
Nations' damnations and sputter and spume,
Marvels infernal of horrible skill,
Swart as the fires that lost regions illume;
Out of your cranes and your pulleys and pumps,
Devilries' revelries, spitting your span,
Earthquake, eclipse and demoniac thumps—
Make us a man!
Soften the burdens of bitterest woes
Binding and grinding the toilers to dust,
Out of the reach of our ruinous foes
Raise us to something more lofty than lust;
Forth from the turmoil and stutter and stir,
Spewing and chewing of fangs as they swear
Pounding along with a whizzing and whirr,
O from destruction a minute forbear!
Sweeten the cup of our sorrow, and churn
Peace to inspire us to do what we can
Dimly, however ye bellow and burn—
Make us a man!
Forges and levers of iron and steel
Moaning and groaning and panting in strife
Darkly, that when ye devour us do kneel
Though not to God, and are glutted with life;
Poisoning water and sowing in earth
Sadness and madness and cursing and blight,
Turning our Eden to desert and dearth
Canopied over at noontide with night;
Scattering sickness and sorrow with dire
Suction, eruction, where bright rivers ran
Gaily beneath the old cloister and spire—
Make us a man!
Not a machine, or a toy and a tool
Drudging a grudging dim pathway of pain,
On the same millround that fetters the fool
Down to his inch with a grovelling chain;
Not a mere pivot or part of your whole

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Stamping and champing in discord and dusk,
Squeezing right out all the beautiful soul
While ye allow him the leavings and husk;
Ah, with your hubbub and howling and reek—
Spoiling and soiling what goodness began,
Graces that now we find not if we seek—
Make us a man!
Hammers and anvils and rivets, and gear
Shaking and raking the bowels of rocks,
Weapons deforming the world by the fear
Shadowing all with their sinister shocks;
Plagues, that like sacrilege ruthlessly brand
Creatures with features that are not their own,
Taking away half the spell from the land
While ye exult in the sins ye have sown;
Where is the profit in serfdom and dire
Progress, the ogress, that scouts as we scan
Glories of nature which daily expire—
Make us a man!
Lighten our troubles, and lessen the care
Sapping and lapping around like a sea
Rolled with the surges that wreck us and spare
Nothing, and never yet harkened to plea;
Crown us with dignity, ease and repose
Cheering and steering the State and its ark,
Unto the haven of dreams that disclose
Shelter and anchorage safe in the dark;
Mete to us liberty, leisure and grace,
Not the mud crest of the billowing van
Only a monster of passion and pace—
Make us a man!
Engines and axles and pistons that yet
Ravish, and lavish your tempest and tears,
Filling our acres with ruddier sweat
Poured from the harvest of dolorous years;
Fed with the sighs and the sobbings of toil
Bending and spending its majesty's might,
Just to add shackles and shame to the coil

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Weighing us down, when the soul wants delight;
Grim as a giant octopus, your mesh
Purges and scourges with flame like a fan,
Stern as a judgment, the mind and the flesh—
Make us a man!
Give us more promise of pleasure and room,
Diet of quiet, not deified haste
Robbing the dawn of its dew and the bloom,
Turning the fairness of things but to waste;
Stay for a moment this nightmare of noise,
Hurry and flurry and fever and rage,
So that our lives may recover their poise
Stepping at large on a healthier stage;
Leave us some beauty and strength for the poor
Places and faces ye torture and tan,
Not a mere peg or a stupefied boor—
Make us a man!