Chants for Socialists | Page 6

sun! and lo thereunder?Riseth wrath, and hope, and wonder,
And the host comes marching on.
DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN
Come, comrades, come, your glasses clink;?Up with your hands a health to drink,?The health of all that workers be,?In every land, on every sea.
And he that will this health deny,?Down among the dead men, down among the dead men,?Down, down, down, down,?Down among the dead men let him lie!
Well done! now drink another toast,?And pledge the gath'ring of the host,?The people armed in brain and hand,?To claim their rights in every land.
And he that will this health deny,?Down among the dead men, down among the dead men,?Down, down, down, down,?Down among the dead men let him lie!
There's liquor left; come, let's be kind,?And drink the rich a better mind,?That when we knock upon the door,?They may be off and say no more.
And he that will this health deny,?Down among the dead men, down among the dead men,?Down, down, down, down,?Down among the dead men let him lie!
Now, comrades, let the glass blush red,?Drink we the unforgotten dead?That did their deeds and went away,?Before the bright sun brought the day.
And he that will this health deny,?Down among the dead men, down among the dead men,?Down, down, down, down,?Down among the dead men let him lie!
The Day? Ah, friends, late grows the night;?Drink to the glimmering spark of light,?The herald of the joy to be,?The battle-torch of thee and me!
And he that will this health deny,?Down among the dead men, down among the dead men,?Down, down, down, down,?Down among the dead men let him lie!
Take yet another cup in hand?And drink in hope our little band;?Drink strife in hope while lasteth breath,?And brotherhood in life and death;
And he that will this health deny,?Down among the dead men, down among the dead men,?Down, down, down, down,?Down among the dead men let him lie!
A DEATH SONG
What cometh here from west to east awending??And who are these, the marchers stern and slow??We bear the message that the rich are sending?Aback to those who bade them wake and know.?Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,?But one and all if they would dusk the day.
We asked them for a life of toilsome earning,?They bade us bide their leisure for our bread;?We craved to speak to tell our woeful learning:?We come back speechless, bearing back our dead.?Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,?But one and all if they would dusk the day.
They will not learn; they have no ears to hearken.?They turn their faces from the eyes of fate;?Their gay-lit halls shut out the skies that darken.?But, lo! this dead man knocking at the gate.?Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,?But one and all if they would dusk the day.
Here lies the sign that we shall break our prison;?Amidst the storm he won a prisoner's rest;?But in the cloudy dawn the sun arisen?Brings us our day of work to win the best.?Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,?But one and all if they would dusk the day.
MAY DAY [1892]
THE WORKERS.
O Earth, once again cometh Spring to deliver
Thy winter-worn heart, O thou friend of the Sun;?Fair blossom the meadows from river to river
And the birds sing their triumph o'er winter undone.
O Earth, how a-toiling thou singest thy labour
And upholdest the flower-crowned cup of thy bliss,?As when in the feast-tide drinks neighbour to neighbour
And all words are gleeful, and nought is amiss.
But we, we, O Mother, through long generations,
We have toiled and been fruitful, but never with thee?Might we raise up our bowed heads and cry to the nations
To look on our beauty, and hearken our glee.
Unlovely of aspect, heart-sick and a-weary
On the season's fair pageant all dim-eyed we gaze;?Of thy fairness we fashion a prison-house dreary
And in sorrow wear over each day of our days.
THE EARTH.
O children! O toilers, what foemen beleaguer
The House I have built you, the Home I have won??Full great are my gifts, and my hands are all eager
To fill every heart with the deeds I have done.
THE WORKERS.
The foemen are born of thy body, O Mother,
In our shape are they shapen, their voice is the same;?And the thought of their hearts is as ours and no other;
It is they of our own house that bring us to shame.
THE EARTH.
Are ye few? Are they many? What words have ye spoken
To bid your own brethren remember the Earth??What deeds have ye done that the bonds should be broken,
And men dwell together in good-will and mirth?
THE WORKERS.
They are few, we are many: and yet, O our Mother,
Many years were we wordless and nought was our deed,?But now the word flitteth from brother to brother:
We have furrowed the acres and scattered the seed.
THE EARTH.
Win on then unyielding, through fair and foul weather,
And pass not a day that your deed shall avail.?And in hope every