 | The Stranger at the Gate |  |
49
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
THE GHOSTLY BROTHER
[Description: The page layout of the second page of the poem "The Ghostly
Brother".]
[Description: The page layout of the third page of the poem "The Ghostly
Brother".]
BROTHER, Brother calling me
Like a distant surfy sea,
Like a wind that moans and grieves
All night long about the eaves;
Let me rest a little span;
Long I've followed, followed fast;
Now I wish to be a man,
Disconnected from the Vast!
Let me stop a little while,
Feel this snug world's pulses beat,
Glory in a baby's smile,
Hear it prattle round my feet;
Eat and sleep and love and live,
Thankful ever for the dawn;
Wanting what the world can give—
With the cosmic curtains drawn!
Like a distant surfy sea,
Like a wind that moans and grieves
All night long about the eaves;
Let me rest a little span;
Long I've followed, followed fast;
Now I wish to be a man,
Disconnected from the Vast!
Let me stop a little while,
Feel this snug world's pulses beat,
Glory in a baby's smile,
Hear it prattle round my feet;
Eat and sleep and love and live,
Thankful ever for the dawn;
Wanting what the world can give—
With the cosmic curtains drawn!
Brother, Brother, break the gyves!
Burst the prison, Son of Power!
Product of forgotten lives,
Seedling of the final flower!
What to you are nights and days,
Drifting snow or rainy flaw,
Love or hate or blame or praise—
Heir unto the Outer Awe?
Burst the prison, Son of Power!
Product of forgotten lives,
Seedling of the final flower!
What to you are nights and days,
Drifting snow or rainy flaw,
50
Heir unto the Outer Awe?
I am breathless from the flight
Through the speed-cleft, awful night!
Panting, let me rest awhile
In this pleasant aether-isle.
Here, content with little things,
How the witless dweller sings!
Rears his brood and steers his plow,
Nursing at the breasts of Now.
Here the meanest, yea, the slave
Claims the heirloom of a grave!
Oh, this little world is blest—
Brother, Brother, let me rest!
Through the speed-cleft, awful night!
Panting, let me rest awhile
In this pleasant aether-isle.
Here, content with little things,
How the witless dweller sings!
Rears his brood and steers his plow,
Nursing at the breasts of Now.
Here the meanest, yea, the slave
Claims the heirloom of a grave!
Oh, this little world is blest—
Brother, Brother, let me rest!
I am you and you are I!
When the world is cherished most,
You shall hear my haunting cry,
See me rising like a ghost.
I am all that you have been,
Are not now, but soon shall be!
Thralled awhile by dust and din—
Brother, Brother, follow me!
When the world is cherished most,
You shall hear my haunting cry,
See me rising like a ghost.
I am all that you have been,
Are not now, but soon shall be!
Thralled awhile by dust and din—
Brother, Brother, follow me!
'Tis a lonesome, endless quest;
I am weary; I would rest.
Though I seek to fly from you,
Like a shadow, you pursue.
Do I love? You share the kiss,
Leaving only half the bliss.
Do I conquer? You are there,
Claiming half the victor's share.
When the night shades fray and lift,
'Tis your veiled face lights the rift.
In the sighing of the rain,
Your voice goads me like a pain.
Happy in a narrow trust,
Let me serve the lesser will
One brief hour—and then, to dust!
Oh, the dead are very still!
I am weary; I would rest.
Though I seek to fly from you,
Like a shadow, you pursue.
51
Leaving only half the bliss.
Do I conquer? You are there,
Claiming half the victor's share.
When the night shades fray and lift,
'Tis your veiled face lights the rift.
In the sighing of the rain,
Your voice goads me like a pain.
Happy in a narrow trust,
Let me serve the lesser will
One brief hour—and then, to dust!
Oh, the dead are very still!
Brother, Brother, follow hence!
Ours the wild, unflagging speed!
Through the outer walls of sense,
Follow, follow where I lead!
Love and hate and grief and fear—
'Tis the geocentric dream!
Only shadows linger here,
Cast by the eternal Gleam!
Follow, follow, follow fast!—
Somewhere out of Time and Place,
You shall lift the veil at last,
You shall look upon my face!
Look upon my face and die,
Solver of the Mystery!
I am you and you are I—
Brother, Brother, follow me!
Ours the wild, unflagging speed!
Through the outer walls of sense,
Follow, follow where I lead!
Love and hate and grief and fear—
'Tis the geocentric dream!
Only shadows linger here,
Cast by the eternal Gleam!
Follow, follow, follow fast!—
Somewhere out of Time and Place,
You shall lift the veil at last,
You shall look upon my face!
Look upon my face and die,
Solver of the Mystery!
I am you and you are I—
Brother, Brother, follow me!
52
THE POET'S ADVICE
I
YOU wish to be a poet, Little Man?
More verses limping 'neath their big intent?
Well—one must be a poet if one can!
But do you know the way the others went?
More verses limping 'neath their big intent?
Well—one must be a poet if one can!
But do you know the way the others went?
Who buys of gods must pay a heavy fee.
The World loves not its dreamers overmuch.
And he who longs to drink at Castaly,
Must hobble there upon a broken crutch.
The World loves not its dreamers overmuch.
And he who longs to drink at Castaly,
Must hobble there upon a broken crutch.
One sins by being different, it seems;
At least so in our human commonweal.
Who goes to market with his minted dreams,
Must buy and bear the Cross of the Ideal.
At least so in our human commonweal.
Who goes to market with his minted dreams,
Must buy and bear the Cross of the Ideal.
Lo, tall amid the forest, blackened, grim,
The lightning-riven pine!—God-kissed was he.
How all the little beeches jeer at him,
Safe in their snug arrays of greenery!
The lightning-riven pine!—God-kissed was he.
How all the little beeches jeer at him,
Safe in their snug arrays of greenery!
And who shall call the little beeches mad?
Not I, who know how big are little acts.
Want what you have, and cherish, O my Lad,
The downright, foursquare, geometric facts!
Not I, who know how big are little acts.
53
The downright, foursquare, geometric facts!
II
But—Oh, the ancient glory in your eyes!
How bursts a dazzling wonder all around!
Wild tempests of ineffable surprise—
All color, dream and sound!
How bursts a dazzling wonder all around!
Wild tempests of ineffable surprise—
All color, dream and sound!
You lip the awful flagons of old time,
And mystic apples lure you to the bite!
Blown down the dizzy winds of woven rhyme,
Dead women come and woo you in the night!
And mystic apples lure you to the bite!
Blown down the dizzy winds of woven rhyme,
Dead women come and woo you in the night!
You tread the myrtle woods past time and place,
Where shadows flit and splendid echoes croon;
And through the boughs some fatal storied face
Breathes muted music like a Summer moon!
Where shadows flit and splendid echoes croon;
And through the boughs some fatal storied face
Breathes muted music like a Summer moon!
I know the secret altars where you kneel.
I know what lips fling fever in your kiss.
That sorry little drab to whom you steal
Is Queen Semiramis!
I know what lips fling fever in your kiss.
That sorry little drab to whom you steal
Is Queen Semiramis!
The Bacchanalia of the sap now reigns!
Priapic fires burn yonder bough with blooms!
Lo, goat-songs warbled from the vineyard fanes!
Lo, Venus-nipples in the apple-glooms!
Priapic fires burn yonder bough with blooms!
Lo, goat-songs warbled from the vineyard fanes!
Lo, Venus-nipples in the apple-glooms!
54
Ah, who is older than the vernal surge,
And who is wiser than the sap a-thrill?
Forever, he who feels the lyric urge
Shall do its will!
And who is wiser than the sap a-thrill?
Forever, he who feels the lyric urge
Shall do its will!
—Your rhymes?—Some nimbler footed have been worse.
What broken trumpet echoes from the van
Where march the cohorts of Immortal Verse!
Well—one must be a poet if one can.
What broken trumpet echoes from the van
Where march the cohorts of Immortal Verse!
Well—one must be a poet if one can.
55
MORNING GLORIES
DISTANT as a dream's flight
Lay an eerie plain,
Where the weary moonlight
Swooned into a moan;
Wailing after dead seed,
Came the ghost of rain;
There was I a wild weed
Growing all alone.
Lay an eerie plain,
Where the weary moonlight
Swooned into a moan;
Wailing after dead seed,
Came the ghost of rain;
There was I a wild weed
Growing all alone.
Like a doubted story
Came the thought of day;
God and all his glory
Lingered otherwhere,
Busy with the dawn-thrill
Many dreams away.
Could a little weed's will
Fling so far a prayer?
Came the thought of day;
God and all his glory
Lingered otherwhere,
Busy with the dawn-thrill
Many dreams away.
Could a little weed's will
Fling so far a prayer?
Oh, the sudden wonder!
(Is a prayer so fleet?)
>From the desert under,
Morning glories grew!
Twined me, bound me
With caressing feet!
Wove song round me—
Pink, white, blue!
(Is a prayer so fleet?)
>From the desert under,
Morning glories grew!
Twined me, bound me
With caressing feet!
56
Pink, white, blue!
As a fog is rifted
By the eager breeze,
Darkness broke and lifted,
Tossing like a sea!
Lo, the dawn was flowering
Through the maple trees!
Oh—and you were showering
Kisses over me!
By the eager breeze,
Darkness broke and lifted,
Tossing like a sea!
Lo, the dawn was flowering
Through the maple trees!
Oh—and you were showering
Kisses over me!
57
THE LYRIC
Give the good gaunt horse the rein,
Sting him with the steel!
Set his nervous thews astrain,
Let him feel the winner's pain,
Master-hand and -heel!
Fling him, hurl him at the wire
Though he sob and bleed!
Play upon him as a lyre—
Speed is music set on fire—
Oh, the splendid steed!
Sting him with the steel!
Set his nervous thews astrain,
Let him feel the winner's pain,
Master-hand and -heel!
Fling him, hurl him at the wire
Though he sob and bleed!
Play upon him as a lyre—
Speed is music set on fire—
Oh, the splendid steed!
Hurl the lyric swift and true
Like a shaft of Doom!
Like the lightning's blade of blue
Letting all the heavens through,
And shuddering back to gloom!
Like the sudden river-thaw,
Like a sabered throng,
Give it fury clothed in awe—
Speed is half the lyric law—
Oh, the mighty song!
Like a shaft of Doom!
Like the lightning's blade of blue
Letting all the heavens through,
And shuddering back to gloom!
Like the sudden river-thaw,
Like a sabered throng,
Give it fury clothed in awe—
Speed is half the lyric law—
Oh, the mighty song!
58
GLAUCUS
GLAUCUS, the fisher, sat his tossing craft:
The sun was dying on the Roman lake,
And, save where Day, departing, grimly laughed,
The skies were dim, as mourning for his sake.
Safe was it for the saucy fish to take
Its bite unnoticed; nor did Glaucus see
The boiling clouds that dogged the fierce winds' wake:
Far other stormier, gloomier thoughts had he
Than how his craft went mad upon the dizzy sea.
The sun was dying on the Roman lake,
And, save where Day, departing, grimly laughed,
The skies were dim, as mourning for his sake.
Safe was it for the saucy fish to take
Its bite unnoticed; nor did Glaucus see
The boiling clouds that dogged the fierce winds' wake:
Far other stormier, gloomier thoughts had he
Than how his craft went mad upon the dizzy sea.
"Howl, O mad Winds! You can no stronger blow
Than blows despairing passion in my brain!
What care I where my futile soul may go,
Since our two souls must evermore be twain?
I am the poor rough toiler of the main,
A god's desires in a slave's bent form.
Full many a valiant hero in her vein
Rebreathes, and unborn kings in her are warm!"
He spoke, the while he breathed the frenzy of the storm.
Than blows despairing passion in my brain!
What care I where my futile soul may go,
Since our two souls must evermore be twain?
I am the poor rough toiler of the main,
A god's desires in a slave's bent form.
Full many a valiant hero in her vein
Rebreathes, and unborn kings in her are warm!"
He spoke, the while he breathed the frenzy of the storm.
"Some hand uncalloused shall unbind her zone.
Some soft, unweathered cheek shall she caress.
She is a god's soft song, and I a moan.
Her veins run day, and mine the dumb distress
Of dusk; yet I have felt her bosom press
Throughout the night against my peasant breast,
And disenchanting dawn hath left me less,
Less than a memory of what mocked my rest."
—Now Night had frowned the last sad glory from the west.
Some soft, unweathered cheek shall she caress.
She is a god's soft song, and I a moan.
Her veins run day, and mine the dumb distress
59
Throughout the night against my peasant breast,
And disenchanting dawn hath left me less,
Less than a memory of what mocked my rest."
—Now Night had frowned the last sad glory from the west.
The sea crouched snarling like an ambushed beast,
And hissing, crashing, sprang upon the bark!
Still from the mad abysm of the east
Debouched the howling cohorts of the Dark!
Nor lulled the cloud-winged winds that they might hark
How gasped the struggling fisher in the sea.
Meanwhile in drowning Glaucus flashed a spark
Of that swift flame that thrills infinity,
And through him ran a voice—"Thou art a deity!"
And hissing, crashing, sprang upon the bark!
Still from the mad abysm of the east
Debouched the howling cohorts of the Dark!
Nor lulled the cloud-winged winds that they might hark
How gasped the struggling fisher in the sea.
Meanwhile in drowning Glaucus flashed a spark
Of that swift flame that thrills infinity,
And through him ran a voice—"Thou art a deity!"
The pang of passing pinched his chilling frame;
The grin of death sat sullen on his face;
But o'er his soul a thrill exultant came!
Within the crystal glories of the place
He saw his form reflected, full of grace,
As though the sinuous beauty of the storm
Had breathed itself in one of mortal race!
Then as the god welled in him, wild and warm,
Cleaving the shaken deeps, he mounted in the storm!
The grin of death sat sullen on his face;
But o'er his soul a thrill exultant came!
Within the crystal glories of the place
He saw his form reflected, full of grace,
As though the sinuous beauty of the storm
Had breathed itself in one of mortal race!
Then as the god welled in him, wild and warm,
Cleaving the shaken deeps, he mounted in the storm!
60
To him the thunder was a pigmy's shout.
Above the roar of wind and wave he cried:
"Blow till the frenzied Earth shall toss about
Again with Titan-pangs! I ride, I ride,
God of the Wind and Master of the Tide!
Burst from AEolus' careful hand and shake
The ancient dusk and silence that abide
About the world's end, O ye Winds! Awake!
Breathe terror through the skies for poor mad Glaucus' sake!"
Above the roar of wind and wave he cried:
"Blow till the frenzied Earth shall toss about
Again with Titan-pangs! I ride, I ride,
God of the Wind and Master of the Tide!
Burst from AEolus' careful hand and shake
The ancient dusk and silence that abide
About the world's end, O ye Winds! Awake!
Breathe terror through the skies for poor mad Glaucus' sake!"
As some brain with a morbid dream distraught,
All night the Cosmos trembled with the rush
Of storm, that, like the darkling, flaring thought,
Found peace in self-destruction. Morning's blush
Lured Eos up the scarped east through a hush.
Afloat upon the dawn-stream, Glaucus knew
The soft Olympian ecstasies that gush
>From hearts forever young. The world was new;
Blue was the sea beneath him, the sky about him blue.
All night the Cosmos trembled with the rush
Of storm, that, like the darkling, flaring thought,
Found peace in self-destruction. Morning's blush
Lured Eos up the scarped east through a hush.
Afloat upon the dawn-stream, Glaucus knew
The soft Olympian ecstasies that gush
>From hearts forever young. The world was new;
Blue was the sea beneath him, the sky about him blue.
Upon a couch of golden mist reclined
The new-born Wind-God, Glaucus. Near him crooned
Some unseen Zephyr like a soul that pined;
Its theme was love, its notes were sleepy-tuned.
Then grew on him the soft nights, argent-mooned,
When, as a mortal, he had crept anigh
Where she, his Princess, walked, the while he swooned
With the voluptuous pleasure of his eye.
—The unseen Zephyr sang; the Wind God heaved a sigh.
The new-born Wind-God, Glaucus. Near him crooned
Some unseen Zephyr like a soul that pined;
Its theme was love, its notes were sleepy-tuned.
Then grew on him the soft nights, argent-mooned,
When, as a mortal, he had crept anigh
Where she, his Princess, walked, the while he swooned
61
—The unseen Zephyr sang; the Wind God heaved a sigh.
The lazy day strolled up the golden steep.
A tender vision thrilled the drowsed god's brain.
There came an amorous woman in his sleep,
Wide-armed and panting as with gentle pain.
He knew the face, the form and the sweet strain
That was her voice: "O Glaucus, I am thine!
Teach me to die, to leave the flesh and vein
That make a prison! Oh, that thou wert mine!"
The god awoke: the day still climbed the long incline.
A tender vision thrilled the drowsed god's brain.
There came an amorous woman in his sleep,
Wide-armed and panting as with gentle pain.
He knew the face, the form and the sweet strain
That was her voice: "O Glaucus, I am thine!
Teach me to die, to leave the flesh and vein
That make a prison! Oh, that thou wert mine!"
The god awoke: the day still climbed the long incline.
The amorous voice still echoed in his heart.
Beneath his cloud he bade the swift winds blow.
Scarce did the golden fleece-couch seem to start,
When spread a palace garden far below:
The languorous palms, the flashing founts—and Oh!
There slept the being of his sweetest thought!
So summoned he the various winds that blow
Sweet-burdened with the subtle incense caught
>From Summer isles where suns their softest wiles have wrought:
Beneath his cloud he bade the swift winds blow.
Scarce did the golden fleece-couch seem to start,
When spread a palace garden far below:
The languorous palms, the flashing founts—and Oh!
There slept the being of his sweetest thought!
So summoned he the various winds that blow
Sweet-burdened with the subtle incense caught
>From Summer isles where suns their softest wiles have wrought:
And in the sleeper's blood he bade them creep
To brew warm passion in her pulse, and sing,
Weaving their music dreamlike through her sleep,
The love-begetting amour of their king.
Then close he crept unto her, whispering
Words of immortal meaning: "Come with me
And I shall make thee deathless! From the spring
That laves Olympus thou shalt drink, and be
Bride of the boundless Air and mistress of the Sea!
To brew warm passion in her pulse, and sing,
Weaving their music dreamlike through her sleep,
The love-begetting amour of their king.
62
Words of immortal meaning: "Come with me
And I shall make thee deathless! From the spring
That laves Olympus thou shalt drink, and be
Bride of the boundless Air and mistress of the Sea!
"All night our souls shall twine, while Dian's star
Pours out Elysium on our fleecy sleep.
And we shall sight the sunrise from afar,
And we shall thrill to see Apollo leap
Out of the Deep to plunge into the Deep!
The Horses of the Storm shall stoop to thee,
And thou shalt back them, queenlike, and shalt sweep
Into the unlocked depths of Mystery—
Bride of the boundless Air and mistress of the Sea!"
Pours out Elysium on our fleecy sleep.
And we shall sight the sunrise from afar,
And we shall thrill to see Apollo leap
Out of the Deep to plunge into the Deep!
The Horses of the Storm shall stoop to thee,
And thou shalt back them, queenlike, and shalt sweep
Into the unlocked depths of Mystery—
Bride of the boundless Air and mistress of the Sea!"
What said the sleeper's soul? Ah, who can know
What fond, unspoken vows were plighted then?
Did not the wind that day more gently blow,
And was the air not scented sweet, as when
Dates burst to make the desert glad again?
Ah, thankless task, to urge a modern shell
To croon into the ears of hurried men
The music of the wonder that befell!
For cold her form was found. The rest the peasants tell.
What fond, unspoken vows were plighted then?
Did not the wind that day more gently blow,
And was the air not scented sweet, as when
Dates burst to make the desert glad again?
Ah, thankless task, to urge a modern shell
To croon into the ears of hurried men
The music of the wonder that befell!
For cold her form was found. The rest the peasants tell.
63
MONEY
A SON of Adam dug beside the way.
"Why, Brother, do you dig?" I stopped to ask.
Standing at stoop and pausing in his task,
>From dreary eyes he wiped the sweat away.
"I work for money." "What is money, pray?"
"A foolish question, this you come to ask!"
Yet in that gray and worry-haunted mask
At hide-and-seek I saw my query play.
"Why, Brother, do you dig?" I stopped to ask.
Standing at stoop and pausing in his task,
>From dreary eyes he wiped the sweat away.
"I work for money." "What is money, pray?"
"A foolish question, this you come to ask!"
Yet in that gray and worry-haunted mask
At hide-and-seek I saw my query play.
"It is the graven symbol of your ache,"
I said, "—the minted meaning of your blood;
And he who works not, robs you when he buys!
You are the vassal of a thing you make!"
I left him staring hard upon the mud,
The glimmer of a portent in his eyes.
I said, "—the minted meaning of your blood;
And he who works not, robs you when he buys!
You are the vassal of a thing you make!"
I left him staring hard upon the mud,
The glimmer of a portent in his eyes.
64
THE RED WIND COMES!
TOO long mere words have thralled us. Let us think!
Oh ponder, are we "free and equal" yet?
That July bombast, writ with blood for ink,
Is blurred with floods of unavailing sweat!
Oh ponder, are we "free and equal" yet?
That July bombast, writ with blood for ink,
Is blurred with floods of unavailing sweat!
An empty sound we won from Royal George!
Yea, till the last great fight of all is won,
A sentimental show was Valley Forge,
A mawkish, tawdry farce was Lexington!
Yea, till the last great fight of all is won,
A sentimental show was Valley Forge,
A mawkish, tawdry farce was Lexington!
No longer blindfold Justice reigns; but leers
A barefaced, venal strumpet in her stead!
The stolen harvests of a hundred years
Are lighter than a stolen loaf of bread!
A barefaced, venal strumpet in her stead!
The stolen harvests of a hundred years
Are lighter than a stolen loaf of bread!
O pious Nation, holding God in awe,
Where sacred human rights are duly priced!
Where men are beggared in the name of Law,
Where alms are given in the name of Christ!
Where sacred human rights are duly priced!
Where men are beggared in the name of Law,
Where alms are given in the name of Christ!
The Country of the Free?—O wretched lie!
The Country of the Brave?—Yea, let it be!
One more good fight, O Brothers, ere we die,
And this shall be the Country of the Free!
The Country of the Brave?—Yea, let it be!
One more good fight, O Brothers, ere we die,
And this shall be the Country of the Free!
65
What! Are we cowards? Are we doting fools?
Who built the cities, fructified the lands?
We make and use, but do we own the tools?
Who robbed us of the product of our hands?
Who built the cities, fructified the lands?
We make and use, but do we own the tools?
Who robbed us of the product of our hands?
A tiger-hearted Tyrant crowned with Law,
Whose flesh is custom and whose soul is greed!
Ubiquitous, a nothing clothed in awe,
We sweat for him and bleed!
Whose flesh is custom and whose soul is greed!
Ubiquitous, a nothing clothed in awe,
We sweat for him and bleed!
Religion follows proudly in his train!
Daft Freedom raves her fealty at his side!
Surviving kingship, he eludes the vain,
Misguided dagger of the regicide!
Daft Freedom raves her fealty at his side!
Surviving kingship, he eludes the vain,
Misguided dagger of the regicide!
Yea, and we serve this Insult to our God!
Gnawing our crusts, we render Caesar toll!
We labor with the back beneath his rod,
His shackles on the soul!
Gnawing our crusts, we render Caesar toll!
We labor with the back beneath his rod,
His shackles on the soul!
He is a System—wrought for human hogs!
So long as we shall hug a hoary Lie,
And gulp the vocal swill of demagogues,
The Fat shall rule the sty!
So long as we shall hug a hoary Lie,
And gulp the vocal swill of demagogues,
The Fat shall rule the sty!
Behold potential plenty for us all!
Behold the pauper and the plutocrat!
Behold the signs prophetic of thy fall,
O Dynast of the Fat!
Behold the pauper and the plutocrat!
Behold the signs prophetic of thy fall,
O Dynast of the Fat!
66
Lo, even now the haunting, spectral scrawl!
Lo, even now the beat of hidden wings!
The ghosts of millions throng thy banquet-hall,
O guiltiest and last of all the kings!
Lo, even now the beat of hidden wings!
The ghosts of millions throng thy banquet-hall,
O guiltiest and last of all the kings!
Beware the Furies stirring in the gloom!
They mutter from the mines, the mills, the slums!
No lies shall stay or mitigate thy doom—
The Red Wind comes!
They mutter from the mines, the mills, the slums!
No lies shall stay or mitigate thy doom—
The Red Wind comes!
67
CRY OF THE PEOPLE
TREMBLE before thy chattels,
Lords of the scheme of things!
Fighters of all earth's battles,
Ours is the might of kings!
Guided by seers and sages,
The world's heart-beat for a drum,
Snapping the chains of ages,
Out of the night we come!
Lords of the scheme of things!
Fighters of all earth's battles,
Ours is the might of kings!
Guided by seers and sages,
The world's heart-beat for a drum,
Snapping the chains of ages,
Out of the night we come!
Lend us no ear that pities!
Offer no almoner's hand!
Alms for the builders of cities!
When will you understand?
Down with your pride of birth
And your golden gods of trade!
A man is worth to his mother, Earth,
All that a man has made!
Offer no almoner's hand!
Alms for the builders of cities!
When will you understand?
Down with your pride of birth
And your golden gods of trade!
A man is worth to his mother, Earth,
All that a man has made!
We are the workers and makers!
We are no longer dumb!
Tremble, O Shirkers and Takers!
Sweeping the earth—we come!
Ranked in the world-wide dawn,
Marching into the day!
The night is gone and the sword is drawn
And the scabbard is thrown away!
We are no longer dumb!
Tremble, O Shirkers and Takers!
Sweeping the earth—we come!
Ranked in the world-wide dawn,
Marching into the day!
The night is gone and the sword is drawn
And the scabbard is thrown away!
| The Stranger at the Gate | |