Bars and Shadows | Page 7

mirth to see the mob?Do homage to a Lie!
THE WEST IS DEAD
What path is left for you to tread?When hunger-wolves are slinking near--?Do you not know the West is dead?
The "blanket-stiff" now packs his bed?Along the trails of yesteryear--?What path is left for you to tread?
Your fathers, golden sunsets led?To virgin prairies wide and clear--?Do you not know the West is dead?
Now dismal cities rise instead?And freedom is not there nor here--?What path is left for you to tread?
Your fathers' world, for which they bled,?Is fenced and settled far and near--?Do you not know the West is dead?
Your fathers gained a crust of bread,?Their bones bleach on the lost frontier;?What path is left for you to tread--?Do you not know the West is dead?
UP FROM YOUR KNEES
(Air: "Song of a Thousand Years")
Up from your knees, ye cringing serf men!?What have ye gained by whines and tears??Rise! They can never break our spirits?Though they should try a thousand years.
CHORUS
A thousand years, then speed the victory!?Nothing can stop us nor dismay.?After the winter comes the springtime;?After the darkness comes the day.
Break ye your chains, strike off your fetters;?Beat them to swords, the Foe appears.?Slaves of the world arise and crush him--?Crush him or serve a thousand years.
Join in the fight--the Final Battle,?Welcome the fray with ringing cheers.?These are the times our fathers dreamed of,?Fought to attain a thousand years.
Be ye prepared, be not unworthy,?Greater the task when triumph nears.?Master the earth, O men of labor;?Long have ye learned--a thousand years.
Out of the East the sun is rising,?Out of the night the day appears;?See! at your feet the world is waiting,?Bought with your blood a thousand years.
THE EUNUCH
(To those who fight on the side of the Powers of Darkness)
Once a Eunuch by the palace?In the sunset's fading glow?Felt the soft warm breezes blow;?Watched the fair girls of the Harem?Idly saunter to and fro.
Saw he beauty young and lavish--?Fierce to lure man's every sense--?(Grim the Eunuch stood and tense)?Laughingly the sparkling fountain?Mocked his bleak incompetence.
Came the Sultan from his hunting?Flaming with the zest of life;?(Laid aside were spear and knife)?Came for wine and song and feasting,?Came to seek his fairest wife.
Opened then the marble portals.?Fragrant incense filled the air,?(Sandalwood and roses rare)?While the girls with red-lipped languor?Scattered flowers everywhere.
Far away the fabled mountains,?(Like some paradise of old)?Glowed with lavender and gold.?Tense the Eunuch stood and silent--?Tense and sullen, tense and cold.
Now a quick impotent fury?Lashed him like a bronze-tipped cord.?Sprang he at the youthful lord,?Sprang again with blade all bloody . . .?(Famished lust and dripping sword.)

Night crept on all chill and ghastly,?Jackals trotted forth to bark,?(Murder shuddered, still and stark . . .)?By the palace ceased the fountain?And the whole grey world grew dark.
I. W. W. PRISON SONG
(Tune: "The Red Flag")
The pale and dismal daylight falls?Through iron bars on prison walls.?In chains we came from far and near,?And in dark cells they hold us here.
CHORUS
Defiant 'neath the Iron Heel;?Their walls of stone and bars of steel!?For though all hell at us is hurled,?We and our kind shall rule the world!
At us the blood-hounds are let loose,?The lynch-mobs with the knotted noose;?In legal sanctioned mask and gown?The New Black Hundreds hunt us down.
To all brave comrades o'er the sea,?In chains for human liberty,?And all jailed rebels everywhere?We say: be bold to do and dare!
By all the graves of Labor's dead,?By Labor's deathless flag of red,?We make a solemn vow to you,--?We'll keep the faith; we will be true.
For Freedom laughs at prison bars?Her voice re-echoes from the stars;?Proclaiming with the tempest's breath?A Cause beyond the reach of death!
TO FRANCE
(May Day, 1919)
Mother of revolutions, stern and sweet,?Thou of the red Commune's heroic days;?Unsheathe thy sword, let thy pent lightning blaze?Until these new bastiles fall at thy feet.?Once more thy sons march down the ancient street?Led by pale men from silent Pere la Chaise;?Once more La Carmignole--La Marseillaise?Blend with the war drum's quick and angry beat.
Ah, France--our--France--must they again endure?The crown of thorns upon the cross of death??Is morning here . . .? Then speak that we may know!?The sky seems lighter but we are not sure.?Is morning here . . .? The whole world holds its breath?To hear the crimson Gallic rooster crow!
VILLANELLE
(Torquato Tasso from his cell at Ste. Anne, 1548)
Her beauty haunts me everywhere--?A lone lark singing as it flies--?Sweet, O sweet beyond compare.
Amber and gold meet in her hair,?Dark pools and starlight in her eyes;?Her beauty haunts me everywhere.
Slim body, petal soft and fair,?Cool lips, cool, cool as evening skies--?Sweet, O sweet beyond compare.
Pale fingers delicate and rare,?To lull and lure caressing-wise;?Her beauty haunts me everywhere.
Here in my dungeon dim and bare?The last frail not of music dies--?Sweet, O sweet beyond compare.
My heart? I steeled it not to care. . . .?But God! her love is paradise!?Her beauty haunts me everywhere,?O sweet, sweet,