 | Under Green Leaves |  |
173
STORM APPROACHING.
I
We live in a time of sorrow,A time of doubt and storm,
When the thunder-clouds hang heavy,
And the air is thick and warm;
When the far-off lightnings gather
On the verge of the darkening sky,
And the birds of the air, fear-stricken,
To nest and cover fly:
Look up! ye drowsy people,
There's desolation nigh.
II
Look up! ye drowsy people,And shield yourselves in time,
174
That track the heels of crime;
That lie in wait for the folly
Of the lordly and the strong;
That spare nor high nor lowly
From vengeance threaten'd long,—
But strike at the heart of nations,
And kings who govern wrong.
III
Kneel down in the dust and ashes!Kneel down, ye high and great,
Who call yourselves the bulwarks
Or fathers of the State,
And clear your sleepy vision
From selfishness and scorn,
And mingle with the people,
To learn what they have borne,—
Their suffering and their sadness,
Toiling forlorn, forlorn!
175
IV
Kneel down in the dust and sackcloth,And own, with contrite tears,
Your arrogant self-worship,
And wrongs of many years;
Your luxuries hard-hearted;
Your pride so barren-cold,
Remote from the warmth of pity
For men of the self-same mould,
As good as yourselves, or better,
In all but the shiny gold.
V
Kneel down, ye priests and preachers,Ye men of lawn and stole,
Who call yourselves physicians
And guardians of the soul,—
And own if ye have not hated
Your brethren, night and day,
176
They bent another way,
And sought not your assistance
To worship and to pray.
VI
Kneel down in the dust, confessingYe've preach'd the truth of God,
When your feet were swift for malice,
And in evil pathways trod;
That ye've loved the flesh, and flesh-pots,
Above the creed you taught;
And, at wealth and pomp aspiring,
Have clutch'd them, passion-fraught:
Ye hypocrites unholy,
Who hold religion nought!
VII
Kneel down—low down—ye traders,Ye men of mines and mills,—
177
And beeves on a thousand hills;
With factories and workshops,
And stalls in every mart;
Who serve the great god Mammon
With singleness of heart,
And give him soul and body,
Till soul and body part;
VIII
Who talk of your faith and credit,And honour clear of stain;—
And own if ye have not cheated
And lied for the sake of gain;
If ye have not done, in secret,
Worse things than the wretch who steals
Your 'kerchief from your pocket,—
But which no tongue reveals,
To shame you in the market
Where barefaced Commerce deals.
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IX
Kneel down, and own, soul-humbled,Ye traders of the street,
If ye have not drugg'd the potion,
Or the bread that poor men eat;
If ye have not dealt false measure,
Or ground your workmen down,
Or crush'd their wives and daughters
Into the hideous town:
Then gone to Church or Chapel,
In your drab and brown.
X
And you, ye toiling millions,Meek herd and flock of men!
That swink, and sweat, and suffer,
For three-score years and ten,—
Kneel down, in self-abasement,
And ask yourselves, each one,
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To shade you from the sun,—
Or sit in chains, lamenting,
When ye might rise and run.
XI
Ask if ye do not grovelTo things yourselves have made,—
To the Lords of Many-Acres,
To the Money-Grubs of Trade;
Ask if ye do not wallow
Unseemly in the mire,
With brawls and feuds unmanly,
In the filth of low desire:
Gin-sodden'd and degraded,
Drinking avenging fire.
XII
And ask yourselves, ye lowlyAnd reverential poor,
180
With downcast looks demure,—
If never at God's altars,
With baseless prayers and sighs,
Ye have not gazed at riches
With fierce, exulting eyes,
And said, “This world's rejected
Shall grasp you in the skies.”
XIII
Ask if when lordly fortuneWent whirling past your door,
Ye felt not bitter envy
Burn at your heart's deep core,
Or whisper you to patience
With promises of Heaven,
Where the poor, in regal garments
As white as snow new-driven,
Should look from their thrones at Dives
In hell-fire unforgiven.
181
XIV
Ask if sincere obedienceTo God's Almighty will
Have taught you how to suffer
The burthen of your ill;
And if no sordid barter
Of this world for the next,
Or thought of the rich man groaning,
At the needle's eye perplex'd,
Inspired your resignation
When ye heard the holy text.
XV
And you, ye lords and rulers,And magnates of the realm,
Who scent impending danger
That looms to overwhelm,—
Have ye not, basely sleeping
In apathy and rust,
182
Betray'd your solemn trust,
And given to-morrow's birthright
For the morning's crust?
XVI
Sunk in the Sloughs of Faction,Obtuse, and blind, and dumb,
Have ye not sold the safety
Of ages yet to come,
For triumphs over rivals
Who sought to cast you out,
For paltry ease and quiet,
Or the crowd's ignoble shout;—
Or laugh'd at degradation
Though it hemm'd you round about?
XVII
Awake! awake! ye sleepers,There's danger over all,
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And the weak shall go to the wall;
When towers on the hill-top standing
Shall topple at a word,
And the principles of ages
Shall be question'd with the sword,
And the heart's blood of the nations
Like fountains shall be pour'd.
XVIII
When a fierce and a searching SpiritShall stalk o'er the startled earth,
And make great Thrones the playthings
Of his madness or his mirth;
When ancient creeds and systems,
In the fury of his breath,
Shall whirl like the leaves of Autumn,
When the north wind belloweth,—
And drift away unheeded,
To the deep, deep seas of death.
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XIX
The first large rain-drops patter,The low wind moans and sings,—
Awake, ere the tempest gather,
Rulers, and priests, and kings!
Ere the thunder-clouds are open'd,
That wall and flank the sky;
Ere the whirlwind leaves its caverns,
And the shafts of vengeance fly,—
Look up! ye drowsy people,
There's desolation nigh!
September, 1856.
| Under Green Leaves | |