Bars and Shadows | Page 8

sweet beyond compare!
WESLEY EVEREST
(Mutilated and murdered at Centralia, Washington,?November 11th, 1919, by a mob of "respectable"?businessmen.)
Torn and defiant as a wind-lashed reed,?Wounded he faced you as he stood at bay;?You dared not lynch him in the light of day,?But on your dungeon stones you let him bleed;?Night came . . . and you black vigilants of Greed . . .?Like human wolves, seized hard upon your prey,?Tortured and killed . . . and, silent slunk away?Without one qualm of horror at the deed.
Once . . . long ago . . . do you remember how?You hailed Him king for soldiers to deride--?You placed a scroll above His bleeding brow?And spat upon Him, scourged Him, crucified . . .?
A rebel unto Caesar--then as now?Alone, thorn-crowned, a spear wound in his side!
THE INDUSTRIAL HERETICS
They say we are revolters--that we stirred?The workers of all nations to rebel--?And that we would not compromise with Hell,?But damned it with our every deed and word.?They feared us as we faced them undeterred,?And gave us each a coffin of a cell?In this steel cave where living corpses dwell--?Hate-throttled here that we might not be heard.
We are those fools too stubborn-willed to bend?Our necks to Wrong and parley and discuss.?Today we face the awful test of fire--?The prison, gallows, cross--but in the end?Your sons will call your children after us?And name their dogs from men you now admire!
BLOOD AND WINE
(A certain little renegade of the Revolution chants a?hymn of praise to his erstwhile enemy.)
Behold! The helots of the land?Are cowed beneath thy iron fist;?They are too dumb to understand--?Too tame and spineless to resist.
Victorious one! Against thy gains?These chattels cannot, dare not rise;?Stifle the thought within their brains?And rule . . . with bayonets and lies.
So may thy sons, with greed uncurbed,?Their children's children rule again;?Aye, rule with iron, undisturbed,?The all-prolific sons of men.
What matters that ten million died?To give thy lust a dwelling place??Does not thy Terror set aside?The ancient freedom of the race?
What matters that the peasant's plow?Bites at a soil baptised with red??Are not thy bloody dollars now?More myriad than the myriad dead?
That in charred cities, wan with pain,?War-desolated mothers live,?While lips of babies tug in vain?At breasts that have no milk to give?
Or that beneath thy battered walls,?Cursed with the eloquence of hell,?Black Want to red Rebellion calls . . .??Heed not, I tell thee all is well!
Heed not! Have vine-clad maidens sing?And serve thee scented wine and gore;?Laugh! Glut thyself to vomiting,?And hiccough, screaming still for more.
What of the Men against the gate,?Black-massed and sullen, gaunt and lean . . .?Like thee they crave one thing to hate.?Be glad . . . and whet thy guillotine!
THE RED GUARD
Sons of the dawn! No more shall you enslave?Nor lull them with your honied lies to sleep,?Nor lead them on like herds of human sheep,?To hopeless slaughter for the loot you crave.?For now upon you, wave on mighty wave,?The iron-stern battalions rise and leap?To extirpate your breed and bury deep?And sow with salt the unlamented grave!
Accursed Monster -- nightmare of the years--?Pause but a moment ere you pass away!?Pause and behold the earth made clean and pure--?Our earth, that you have drenched with blood and tears--?Then greet the crimson usurer of Day,--?The mighty Proletarian Dictature!
THE RED FEAST
Go fight, you fools! Tear up the earth with strife?And spill each others guts upon the field;?Serve unto death the men you served in life?So that their wide dominions may not yield.
Stand by the flag--the lie that still allures;?Lay down your lives for land you do not own,?And give unto a war that is not yours?Your gory tithe of mangled flesh and bone.
But whether it be yours to fall or kill?You must not pause to question why nor where.?You see the tiny crosses on that hill??It took all those to make one millionaire.
It was for him the seas of blood were shed,?That fields were razed and cities lit the sky;?And now he comes to chortle o'er the dead--?The condor Thing for whom the millions die!
The bugle screams, the cannons cease to roar.?"Enough! enough! God give us peace again."?The rats, the maggots and the Lords of War?Are fat to bursting from their meal of men.
So stagger back, you stupid dupes who've "won,"?Back to your stricken towns to toil anew,?For there your dismal tasks are still undone?And grim Starvation gropes again for you.
What matters now your flag, your race, the skill?Of scattered legions--what has been the gain??Once more beneath the lash you must distil?Your lives to glut a glory wrought of pain.
In peace they starve you to your loathsome toil,?In war they drive you to the teeth of Death;?And when your life-blood soaks into their soil?They give you lies to choke your dying breath.
So will they smite your blind eyes till you see,?And lash your naked backs until you know?That wasted blood