Bars and Shadows | Page 9

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 can never set you free

From fettered thraldom to the Common Foe.
Then you will find that "nation" is a name
And boundaries are things
that don't exist;
That Labor's bondage, worldwide, is the same,
And
ONE the enemy it must resist.
Montreal, 1914.
THE GIRLS WHO SANG FOR US
What does it mean to us that Spring is here?
We asked ourselves
within the great grey hall.
We shall not feel the magic of her call;

This day, like others, will be dull and drear.
And then you sang . . .
and brought so very near,
The fragrant world beyond the prison wall,

The tender fields, the trees and grass, and all
The hopes and dreams
that every man holds dear.

O, silvery voices, sweet with life and youth
Brushing our grey lives
with your rainbow wings--
Lives that were stern and bitter with old
wrong,
And cleansing them with beauty and with truth;
Reviving
memories of vanished springs--
Making us whole with miracles of
song!
TO EDITH
Do you remember how we walked that night
In early spring?
And
how we found a new and sweet delight
In everything?
Do you
remember how the air was filled
With mist and moonlight--how our
hearts were thrilled--
And seemed to sing?
What if these walls shut out the world for me
And heaven too,

There still lives fragrant in my memory
The thought of you.
And
out there now with life's high dome above you
If you but knew how
very much I love you--
If you but knew . . . .
SONG OF SEPARATION
Two that I love must live alone,
Far away.
All in the world I can
call my own,
Only they.
Mother and boy in the rocking chair,

Thinking of one who cannot be there,
Breathing a hope that is half a
prayer;
Night and day, night and day.
Here in my cell I must sit alone,
Clothed in grey.
Bars of iron and
walls of stone
Bid me stay.
What of the world with its pomp and
show?
Baubles of nothing! This I know:
Deep in my heart I miss
them so
Night and day, night and day.
TO MY LITTLE SON
I cannot lose the thought of you
It haunts me like a little song,
It
blends with all I see or do
Each day, the whole day long.

The train, the lights, the engine's throb,
And that one stinging
memory:
Your brave smile broken with a sob,
Your face pressed
close to me.
Lips trembling far too much to speak;
The arms that would not come
undone;
The kiss so salty on your cheek;
The long, long trip begun.
I could not miss you more it seemed,
But now I don't know what to
say.
It's harder than I ever dreamed
With you so far away.
ESCAPED!
(The boiler house whistle is blown "wildcat" when
a prisoner makes a
"getaway")
A man has fled. . . .! We clutch the bars and wait;
The corridors are
empty, tense and still;
A silver mist has dimmed the distant hill;

The guards have gathered at the prison gate.
Then suddenly the
"wildcat" blares its hate
Like some mad Moloch screaming for the
kill,
Shattering the air with terror loud and shrill,
The dim, grey
walls become articulate.
Freedom, you say? Behold her altar here!
In those far cities men can
only find
A vaster prison and a redder hell,
O'ershadowed by new
wings of greater fear.
Brave fool, for such a world to leave behind

The iron sanctuary of a cell!
RETROSPECT
The wall-girt distance undulates with heat;
The buildings crouch in
terror of the sun;
Steel bars and stones, heat-tortured ton on ton,
On
which the noon's remorseless hammers beat.
Alone I trudge the wide
red-cobbled street:
How long before this evil dream is done . . .?

These strange mad stones I know them every one,
Worn with the
tread of oh, how many feet!

And yet it seems that I have seen it all
Before . . . I know not when . . .
but there should be
Blunt buildings near a cliff, as I recall;
Bare
rocks--a burning