I. We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom Remember us-if at all-not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.
II. Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death’s dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind’s singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer In death’s dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer-
Not that final meeting In the twilight kingdom
III.
This is the dead land This is cactus land Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a dead man’s hand Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this In death’s other kingdom Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone.
IV.
The eyes are not here There are no eyes here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless The eyes reappear As the perpetual star Multifoliate rose Of death’s twilight kingdom The hope only Of empty men.
V.
Here we go round the prickly pear Prickly pear prickly pear Here we go round the prickly pear At five o’clock in the morning.
Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow Life is very long
Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is Life is For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
Take, take away thy barbarous hand, And let me to thy Master speak; Remit awhile the harsh command, And hear me, or my heart will break.
MAGISTRATE.
Fond wretch! and what canst thou relate, But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin? Thy crime is proved, thou know’st thy fate; But come, thy tale!–begin, begin! –
VAGRANT.
My crime!–This sick’ning child to feed. I seized the food, your witness saw; I knew your laws forbade the deed, But yielded to a stronger law.
Know’st thou, to Nature’s great command All human laws are frail and weak? Nay! frown not–stay his eager hand, And hear me, or my heart will break.
In this, th’ adopted babe I hold With anxious fondness to my breast, My heart’s sole comfort I behold, More dear than life, when life was blest; I saw her pining, fainting, cold, I begg’d–but vain was my request.
I saw the tempting food, and seized – My infant-sufferer found relief; And in the pilfer’d treasure pleased, Smiled on my guilt, and hush’d my grief.
But I have griefs of other kind, Troubles and sorrows more severe; Give me to ease my tortured mind, Lend to my woes a patient ear; And let me–if I may not find A friend to help–find one to hear.
Yet nameless let me plead–my name Would only wake the cry of scorn; A child of sin, conceived in shame, Brought forth in woe, to misery born.
My mother dead, my father lost, I wander’d with a vagrant crew; A common care, a common cost; Their sorrows and their sins I knew; With them, by want on error forced, Like them, I base and guilty grew.
Few are my years, not so my crimes; The age which these sad looks declare, Is Sorrow’s work, it is not Time’s, And I am old in shame and care.
Taught to believe the world a place Where every stranger was a foe, Train’d in the arts that mark our race, To what new people could I go? Could I a better life embrace, Or live as virtue dictates? No! –
So through the land I wandering went, And little found of grief or joy; But lost my bosom’s sweet content When first I loved the Gipsy-Boy.
A sturdy youth he was and tall, His looks would all his soul declare; His piercing eyes were deep and small, And strongly curl’d his raven-hair.
Yes, AARON had each manly charm, All in the May of youthful pride, He scarcely fear’d his father’s arm, And every other arm defied. –
Oft, when they grew in anger warm, (Whom will not love and power divide?) I rose, their wrathful souls to calm, Not yet in sinful combat tried.
His father was our party’s chief, And dark and dreadful was his look; His presence fill’d my heart with grief, Although to me he kindly spoke.
With Aaron I delighted went, His favour was my bliss and pride; In growing hope our days we spent, Love’s growing charms in either spied; It saw them all which Nature lent, It lent them all which she denied.
Could I the father’s kindness prize, Or grateful looks on him bestow, Whom I beheld in wrath arise, When Aaron sunk beneath his blow?
He drove him down with wicked hand, It was a dreadful sight to see; Then vex’d him, till he left the land, And told his cruel love to me; The clan were all at his command, Whatever his command might be.
The night was dark, the lanes were deep, And one by one they took their way; He bade me lay me down and sleep, I only wept and wish’d for day.
Accursed be the love he bore, Accursed was the force he used, So let him of his God implore For mercy, and be so refused!
You frown again,–to show my wrong Can I in gentle language speak? My woes are deep, my words are strong, – And hear me, or my heart will break.
MAGISTRATE.
I hear thy words, I feel thy pain; Forbear awhile to speak thy woes; Receive our aid, and then again The story of thy life disclose.
For, though seduced and led astray, Thou’st travell’d far and wander’d long; Thy God hath seen thee all the way, And all the turns that led thee wrong.
Part II
MAGISTRATE.
Come, now again thy woes impart, Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin; We cannot heal the throbbing heart Till we discern the wounds within.
Compunction weeps our guilt away, The sinner’s safety is his pain; Such pangs for our offences pay, And these severer griefs are gain.
VAGRANT.
The son came back–he found us wed, Then dreadful was the oath he swore; His way through Blackburn Forest led, – His father we beheld no more.
Of all our daring clan not one Would on the doubtful subject dwell; For all esteem’d the injured son, And fear’d the tale which he could tell.
But I had mightier cause for fear, For slow and mournful round my bed I saw a dreadful form appear, – It came when I and Aaron wed.
Yes! we were wed, I know my crime, – We slept beneath the elmin tree; But I was grieving all the time, And Aaron frown’d my tears to see.
For he not yet had felt the pain That rankles in a wounded breast; He waked to sin, then slept again, Forsook his God, yet took his rest.
But I was forced to feign delight, And joy in mirth and music sought, – And mem’ry now recalls the night, With such surprise and horror fraught, That reason felt a moment’s flight, And left a mind to madness wrought.
When waking, on my heaving breast I felt a hand as cold as death: A sudden fear my voice suppress’d, A chilling terror stopp’d my breath.
I seem’d–no words can utter how! For there my father-husband stood, And thus he said: –‘Will God allow, The great Avenger just and Good, A wife to break her marriage vow? A son to shed his father’s blood?’
I trembled at the dismal sounds, But vainly strove a word to say; So, pointing to his bleeding wounds, The threat’ning spectre stalk’d away.
I brought a lovely daughter forth, His father’s child, in Aaron’s bed; He took her from me in his wrath, ‘Where is my child?’–‘Thy child is dead.’
‘Twas false–we wander’d far and wide, Through town and country, field and fen, Till Aaron, fighting, fell and died, And I became a wife again.
I then was young: –my husband sold My fancied charms for wicked price; He gave me oft for sinful gold, The slave, but not the friend of vice: – Behold me, Heaven! my pains behold, And let them for my sins suffice.
The wretch who lent me thus for gain, Despised me when my youth was fled; Then came disease, and brought me pain: – Come, Death, and bear me to the dead! For though I grieve, my grief is vain, And fruitless all the tears I shed.
True, I was not to virtue train’d, Yet well I knew my deeds were ill; By each offence my heart was pain’d I wept, but I offended still; My better thoughts my life disdain’d, But yet the viler led my will.
My husband died, and now no more My smile was sought, or ask’d my hand, A widow’d vagrant, vile and poor, Beneath a vagrant’s vile command.
Ceaseless I roved the country round, To win my bread by fraudful arts, And long a poor subsistence found, By spreading nets for simple hearts.
Though poor, and abject, and despised, Their fortunes to the crowd I told; I gave the young the love they prized, And promised wealth to bless the old. Schemes for the doubtful I devised, And charms for the forsaken sold.
At length for arts like these confined In prison with a lawless crew, I soon perceived a kindred mind, And there my long-lost daughter knew;
His father’s child, whom Aaron gave To wander with a distant clan, The miseries of the world to brave, And be the slave of vice and man.
She knew my name–we met in pain; Our parting pangs can I express? She sail’d a convict o’er the main, And left an heir to her distress.
This is that heir to shame and pain, For whom I only could descry A world of trouble and disdain: Yet, could I bear to see her die, Or stretch her feeble hands in vain, And, weeping, beg of me supply?
No! though the fate thy mother knew Was shameful! shameful though thy race Have wander’d all a lawless crew, Outcasts despised in every place;
Yet as the dark and muddy tide, When far from its polluted source, Becomes more pure and purified, Flows in a clear and happy course;
In thee, dear infant! so may end Our shame, in thee our sorrows cease, And thy pure course will then extend, In floods of joy, o’er vales of peace.
Oh! by the GOD who loves to spare, Deny me not the boon I crave; Let this loved child your mercy share, And let me find a peaceful grave: Make her yet spotless soul your care, And let my sins their portion have; Her for a better fate prepare, And punish whom ’twere sin to save!
MAGISTRATE.
Recall the word, renounce the thought, Command thy heart and bend thy knee; There is to all a pardon brought, A ransom rich, assured and free; ‘Tis full when found, ’tis found if sought, Oh! seek it, till ’tis seal’d to thee.
VAGRANT.
But how my pardon shall I know?
MAGISTRATE.
By feeling dread that ’tis not sent, By tears for sin that freely flow, By grief, that all thy tears are spent, By thoughts on that great debt we owe, With all the mercy God has lent, By suffering what thou canst not show, Yet showing how thine heart is rent, Till thou canst feel thy bosom glow, And say, ‘MY SAVIOUR, I REPENT!’
This masonry is wondrous; fates broke it courtyard pavements were smashed; the work of giants is decaying. Roofs are fallen, ruinous towers, the frosty gate with frost on cement is ravaged, chipped roofs are torn, fallen, undermined by old age. The grasp of the earth possesses the mighty builders, perished and fallen, the hard grasp of earth, until a hundred generations of people have departed. Often this wall, lichen-grey and stained with red, experienced one reign after another, remained standing under storms; the high wide gate has collapsed.
The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, “My Heart Leaps Up”)
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;— Turn wheresoe’er I may, By night or day. The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where’er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Her passion breathed from ev’ry pore; It made her great, it made her wise; It burst the locks of any door Concealing secrets from her eyes.
For if she loved she worshipped you; This followed as the fruit the flow’r. She gave her Serfdom where ’twas due — To things of price, and pride, and pow’r.
And where she could not find these things She foisted them on things she found; Just as a Highland sower flings His precious seed on doubtful ground.
Sung at the Completion of the Battle Monument, July 4, 1837
By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set today a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee.
After the uprising of the 17th of June The Secretary of the Writers’ Union Had leaflets distributed on the Stalinallee Stating that the people Had forfeited the confidence of the government And could only win it back By increased work quotas. Would it not in that case be simpler for the government To dissolve the people And elect another?
1. The Eternal Female groaned! It was heard over all the Earth: 2. Albion’s coast is sick, silent; the American meadows faint! 3. Shadows of Prophecy shiver along by the lakes and the rivers and mutter across the ocean. France, rend down thy dungeon; 4. Golden Spain, burst the barriers of old Rome; 5. Cast thy keys, O Rome, into the deep, down falling, even to eternity down falling, 6. And weep! 7. In her trembling hands she took the new born terror howling; 8. On those infinite mountains of light, now barred out by the Atlantic sea, the new born fire stood before the starry king! 9. Flagged with grey browed snows and thunderous visages, the jealous wings waved over the deep. 10. The speary hand burned aloft, unbuckled was the shield, forth went the hand of jealousy among the flaming hair, and hurled the new born wonder through the starry night. 11. The fire, the fire is falling! 12. Look up! look up! O citizen of London, enlarge thy countenance! O Jew, leave counting gold! return to thy oil and wine; O African! black African! (go, winged thought, widen his forehead.) 13. The fiery limbs, the flaming hair, shot like the sinking sun into the western sea.
14. Waked from his eternal sleep, the hoary element roaring fled away; 15. Down rushed, beating his wings in vain, the jealous king; his grey browed councillors, thunderous warriors, curled veterans, among helms, and shields, and chariots, horses, elephants, banners, castles, slings and rocks, 16. Falling, rushing, ruining! buried in the ruins, on Urthona’s dens. 17. All night beneath the ruins; then, their sullen flames faded, emerge round the gloomy king. 18. With thunder and fire, leading his starry hosts through the waste wilderness, he promulgates his Ten Commands, glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay, 19. Where the son of fire in his eastern cloud, while the morning plumes her Golden breast, 20. Spurning the clouds written with curses, stamps the stony law to dust, loosing the eternal horses from the dens of night, crying: ‘Empire is no more! and now the lion and wolf shall cease.’
Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air; Hungry clouds swag on the deep.
Once meek, and in a perilous path, The just man kept his course along The vale of death. Roses are planted where thorns grow, And on the barren heath Sing the honey bees.
Then the perilous path was planted: And a river and a spring On every cliff and tomb; And on the bleached bones Red clay brought forth.
Till the villain left the paths of ease, To walk in perilous paths, and drive The just man into barren climes.
Now the sneaking serpent walks In mild humility, And the just man rages in the wilds Where lions roam.
Rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burdened air; Hungry clouds swag on the deep.
May I for my own self song’s truth reckon, Journey’s jargon, how I in harsh days Hardship endured oft. Bitter breast-cares have I abided, Known on my keel many a care’s hold, And dire sea-surge, and there I oft spent Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship’s head While she tossed close to cliffs. Coldly afflicted, My feet were by frost benumbed. Chill its chains are; chafing sighs Hew my heart round and hunger begot Mere-weary mood. Lest man know not That he on dry land loveliest liveth, List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea, Weathered the winter, wretched outcast Deprived of my kinsmen; Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-scur flew, There I heard naught save the harsh sea And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan cries, Did for my games the gannet’s clamour, Sea-fowls, loudness was for me laughter, The mews’ singing all my mead-drink. Storms, on the stone-cliffs beaten, fell on the stern In icy feathers; full oft the eagle screamed With spray on his pinion. Not any protector May make merry man faring needy. This he little believes, who aye in winsome life Abides ‘mid burghers some heavy business, Wealthy and wine-flushed, how I weary oft Must bide above brine. Neareth nightshade, snoweth from north, Frost froze the land, hail fell on earth then Corn of the coldest. Nathless there knocketh now The heart’s thought that I on high streams The salt-wavy tumult traverse alone. Moaneth alway my mind’s lust That I fare forth, that I afar hence Seek out a foreign fastness. For this there’s no mood-lofty man over earth’s midst, Not though he be given his good, but will have in his youth greed; Nor his deed to the daring, nor his king to the faithful But shall have his sorrow for sea-fare Whatever his lord will. He hath not heart for harping, nor in ring-having Nor winsomeness to wife, nor world’s delight Nor any whit else save the wave’s slash, Yet longing comes upon him to fare forth on the water. Bosque taketh blossom, cometh beauty of berries, Fields to fairness, land fares brisker, All this admonisheth man eager of mood, The heart turns to travel so that he then thinks On flood-ways to be far departing. Cuckoo calleth with gloomy crying, He singeth summerward, bodeth sorrow, The bitter heart’s blood. Burgher knows not — He the prosperous man — what some perform Where wandering them widest draweth. So that but now my heart burst from my breast-lock, My mood ‘mid the mere-flood, Over the whale’s acre, would wander wide. On earth’s shelter cometh oft to me, Eager and ready, the crying lone-flyer, Whets for the whale-path the heart irresistibly, O’er tracks of ocean; seeing that anyhow My lord deems to me this dead life On loan and on land, I believe not That any earth-weal eternal standeth Save there be somewhat calamitous That, ere a man’s tide go, turn it to twain. Disease or oldness or sword-hate Beats out the breath from doom-gripped body. And for this, every earl whatever, for those speaking after — Laud of the living, boasteth some last word, That he will work ere he pass onward, Frame on the fair earth ‘gainst foes his malice, Daring ado, … So that all men shall honour him after And his laud beyond them remain ‘mid the English, Aye, for ever, a lasting life’s-blast, Delight mid the doughty. Days little durable, And all arrogance of earthen riches, There come now no kings nor Cæsars Nor gold-giving lords like those gone. Howe’er in mirth most magnified, Whoe’er lived in life most lordliest, Drear all this excellence, delights undurable! Waneth the watch, but the world holdeth. Tomb hideth trouble. The blade is layed low. Earthly glory ageth and seareth. No man at all going the earth’s gait, But age fares against him, his face paleth, Grey-haired he groaneth, knows gone companions, Lordly men are to earth o’ergiven, Nor may he then the flesh-cover, whose life ceaseth, Nor eat the sweet nor feel the sorry, Nor stir hand nor think in mid heart, And though he strew the grave with gold, His born brothers, their buried bodies Be an unlikely treasure hoard.
IV. HER snow-white arm, indulgent to my song, Waves the fair Hierophant, and moves along. — High plumes, that bending shade her amber hair, Nod, as she steps, their silver leaves in air; Bright chains of pearl, with golden buckles brac’d, Clasp her white neck, and zone her slender waist; Thin folds of silk in soft meanders wind Down her fine form, and undulate behind; The purple border, on the pavement roll’d, Swells in the gale, and spreads its fringe of gold.
“FIRST, if you can, celestial Guide! disclose From what fair fountain mortal life arose, Whence the fine nerve to move and feel assign’d, Contractile fibre, and ethereal mind:
“How Love and Sympathy the bosom warm, Allure with pleasure, and with pain alarm, With soft affections weave the social plan, And charm the listening Savage into Man.”
“GOD THE FIRST CAUSE! — in this terrene abode Young Nature lisps,10 she is the child of GOD. From embryon births her changeful forms improve, Grow, as they live, and strengthen as they move.
“Ere Time began, from flaming Chaos hurl’d Rose the bright spheres, which form the circling world; Earths from each sun with quick explosions burst, And second planets issued from the first. Then, whilst the sea at their coeval birth, Surge over surge, involv’d the shoreless earth; Nurs’d by warm sun-beams in primeval caves Organic Life began beneath the waves.
“First HEAT from chemic dissolution springs, And gives to matter its eccentric wings: With strong REPULSION parts the exploding mass, Melts into lymph, or kindles into gas. ATTRACTION next, as earth or air subsides, The ponderous atoms from the light divides, Approaching parts with quick embrace combines, Swells into spheres, and lengthens into lines. Last, as fine goads the gluten-threads excite, Cords grapple cords, and webs with webs unite; And quick CONTRACTION with ethereal flame Lights into life the fibre-woven frame. — Hence without parent by spontaneous birth Rise the first specks of animated earth; From Nature’s womb the plant or insect swims, And buds or breathes, with microscopic limbs.
“IN earth, sea, air, around, below, above, Life’s subtle woof in Nature’s loom is wove; Points glued to points a living line extends, Touch’d by some goad approach the bending ends; Rings join to rings, and irritated tubes Clasp with young lips the nutrient globes or cubes; And urged by appetencies new select, Imbibe, retain, digest, secrete, eject. In branching cones the living web expands, Lymphatic ducts, and convoluted glands; Aortal tubes propel the nascent blood, And lengthening veins absorb the refluent flood; Leaves, lungs, and gills, the vital ether breathe On earth’s green surface, or the waves beneath. So Life’s first powers arrest the winds and floods, To bones convert them, or to shells, or woods; Stretch the vast beds of argil, lime, and sand, And from diminish’d oceans form the land!
“Next the long nerves unite their silver train, And young SENSATION permeates the brain; Through each new sense the keen emotions dart, Flush the young cheek, and swell the throbbing heart. From pain and pleasure quick VOLITIONS rise, Lift the strong arm, or point the inquiring eyes; With Reason’s light bewilder’d Man direct, And right and wrong with balance nice detect. Last in thick swarms ASSOCIATIONS spring, Thoughts join to thoughts, to motions motions cling; Whence in long trains of catenation flow Imagined joy, and voluntary woe.
“So, view’d through crystal spheres in drops saline, Quick-shooting salts in chemic forms combine; Or Mucor-stems, a vegetative tribe, Spread their fine roots, the tremulous wave imbibe. Next to our wondering eyes the focus brings Self-moving lines, and animated rings; First Monas moves, an unconnected point, Plays round the drop without a limb or joint; The Vibrio waves, with capillary eels, And Vorticella whirls her living wheels; While insect Proteus sports with changeful form Through the bright tide, a globe, a cube, a worm. Last o’er the field the Mite enormous swims, Swells his red heart, and writhes his giant limbs.
V. “ORGANIC LIFE beneath the shoreless waves Was born and nurs’d in Ocean’s pearly caves; First forms minute, unseen by spheric glass, Move on the mud, or pierce the watery mass; These, as successive generations bloom New powers acquire, and larger limbs assume; Whence countless groups of vegetation spring, And breathing realms of fin, and feet, and wing.
“Thus the tall Oak, the giant of the wood, Which bears Britannia’s thunders on the flood; The Whale, unmeasured monster of the main, The lordly Lion, monarch of the plain, The Eagle soaring in the realms of air, Whose eye undazzled drinks the solar glare, Imperious man, who rules the bestial crowd, Of language, reason, and reflection proud, With brow erect who scorns this earthly sod, And styles himself the image of his God; Arose from rudiments of form and sense, An embryon point, or microscopic ens!
When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, “He was a man who used to notice such things”?
If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid’s soundless blink, The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, “To him this must have been a familiar sight.”
If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn, One may say, “He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm, But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.”
If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door, Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees, Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more, “He was one who had an eye for such mysteries”?
And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom, And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings, Till they rise again, as they were a new bell’s boom, “He hears it not now, but used to notice such things?”
We were taken from the ore-bed and the mine, We were melted in the furnace and the pit— We were cast and wrought and hammered to design, We were cut and filed and tooled and gauged to fit. Some water, coal, and oil is all we ask, And a thousandth of an inch to give us play: And now, if you will set us to our task, We will serve you four and twenty hours a day!
We can pull and haul and push and lift and drive, We can print and plough and weave and heat and light, We can run and race and swim and fly and dive, We can see and hear and count and read and write!
Would you call a friend from half across the world? If you’ll let us have his name and town and state, You shall see and hear your crackling question hurled Across the arch of heaven while you wait. Has he answered? Does he need you at his side? You can start this very evening if you choose, And take the Western Ocean in the stride Of seventy thousand horses and some screws!
The boat-express is waiting your command! You will find the Mauretania at the quay, Till her captain turns the lever ’neath his hand, And the monstrous nine-decked city goes to sea.
Do you wish to make the mountains bare their head And lay their new-cut forests at your feet? Do you want to turn a river in its bed, Or plant a barren wilderness with wheat? Shall we pipe aloft and bring you water down From the never-failing cisterns of the snows, To work the mills and tramways in your town, And irrigate your orchards as it flows?
It is easy! Give us dynamite and drills! Watch the iron-shouldered rocks lie down and quake As the thirsty desert-level floods and fills, And the valley we have dammed becomes a lake.
But remember, please, the Law by which we live, We are not built to comprehend a lie, We can neither love nor pity nor forgive. If you make a slip in handling us you die! We are greater than the Peoples or the Kings— Be humble, as you crawl beneath our rods!- Our touch can alter all created things, We are everything on earth—except The Gods!
Though our smoke may hide the Heavens from your eyes, It will vanish and the stars will shine again, Because, for all our power and weight and size, We are nothing more than children of your brain!
HATE FOR HATE — AND RUTH FOR RUTH, EYE FOR EYE — AND TOOTH FOR TOOTH, SCORN FOR SCORN — AND SMILE FOR SMILE, LOVE FOR LOVE — AND GUILE FOR GUILE, WAR FOR WAR, — AND WOE FOR WOE, BLOOD FOR BLOOD — AND BLOW FOR BLOW.
Might was Right when Caesar bled upon the stones of Rome, Might was Right when Genghis led his hordes over Danube’s foam, And Might was Right when German troops poured down through Paris way, It’s the Gospel of the Ancient World and the Logic of Today.
Behind all Kings and Presidents – all government and law, Are army-corps and canoneers to hold the world in awe. And sword-strong races own the earth and ride the Conqueror’s Car — And liberty has never been won except by deeds of war.
What are the lords of horded gold – the silent Semite rings – High pontiffs, priests and kings? What are they but bold master-minds, best fitted for the fray Who comprehend and vanquish by – the Logic of Today.
Cain’s knotted club is scepter still – the “Right of Man” is fraud. Christ’s Ethics are for creeping things – true manhood smiles at “God”. For Might is Right when empires sink in storms of steel and flame; And it is RIGHT when weakling breeds are hunted down like game.
Then what’s the use of dreaming dreams, that each shall “get his own” By forceless votes of meek-eyed thralls, who blindly sweat and moan? No! A curse is on their cankered brains — their very bones decay: Go: Trace your fate in the Iron Game, it’s the Logic of Today.
The strong must ever rule the weak, is grim Primordial Law. On earth’s broad racial threshing floor, the meek are beaten straw. Then ride to power o’er foemen’s neck – let NOTHING bar your way: If you are FIT you’ll Rule and Reign, is the Logic of Today.
You must prove you’re Right by deeds of Might of splendor and reknown. If need be, die on scaffold high in the morning’s misty gray. For “Liberty or Death” is still the Logic of Today.
Might was Right when Gideon led the “chosen” tribes of old. And it was right when Titus burnt their temple roofed with gold: And Might was Right from Bunker’s Hill, to far Manilla Bay, By land and flood it’s writ in blood – the Gospel of Today.
“Put not your trust in princes” is a saying old and true “Put not your hope in governments” translateth it anew. All “Books of Law” and “Golden Rules” are fashioned to betray: “The Survival of the Strongest” is the Gospel of Today.
Might was Right when Carthage flames lit up the Punic foam; And when the naked steel of Gaul weighed down the spoil of Rome; And Might was Right when Richmond fell – and at Thermopylae – It’s the logic of the Ancient World and the Gospel of Today.
Where pendant suns in millions swing around this whirling earth, It’s Might, It’s Force that holds the brakes, and steers through Death and Birth: Force governs all organic life, inspires all Right and Wrong. It’s natures plan to weed out man and TEST who are the strong.
When gods alike and mortals rose to birth, A golden race the immortals formed on earth Of many-languaged men : they lived of old, When Saturn reigned in heaven, an age of gold. Like gods they lived, with calm untroubled mind, Free from the toils and anguish of our kind. Nor e’er decrepit age misshaped their frame, The hand’s, the foot’s proportions still the same. Strangers to ill, their lives in feasts flowed by : Wealthy in flocks ; dear to the blest on high; Dying they sank in sleep, nor seemed to die. Theirs was each good ; the life-sustaining soil Yielded its copious fruits, unbribed by toil. They with abundant goods ‘midst quiet lands All willing shared the gathering of their hands.
The Stranger within my gate, He may be true or kind, But he does not talk my talk– I cannot feel his mind. I see the face and the eyes and the mouth, But not the soul behind.
The men of my own stock, They may do ill or well, But they tell the lies I am wanted to, They are used to the lies I tell; And we do not need interpreters When we go to buy or sell.
The Stranger within my gates, He may be evil or good, But I cannot tell what powers control– What reasons sway his mood; Nor when the Gods of his far-off land Shall repossess his blood.
The men of my own stock, Bitter bad they may be, But, at least, they hear the things I hear, And see the things I see; And whatever I think of them and their likes They think of the likes of me.
This was my father’s belief And this is also mine: Let the corn be all one sheaf– And the grapes be all one vine, Ere our children’s teeth are set on edge By bitter bread and wine.
“Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid — Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.” “Good!” said the Baron, sitting in his hall, “But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.”
So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege, Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege. “Nay!” said the cannoneer on the castle wall, “But Iron — Cold Iron — shall be master of you all!”
Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong, When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along; He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall, And Iron — Cold Iron — was master of it all!
Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!) “What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?” “Nay!” said the Baron, “mock not at my fall, For Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all.”
“Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown — Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.” “As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small, For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”
Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!) “Here is Bread and here is Wine — sit and sup with me. Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall How Iron — Cold Iron — can be master of men all!”
He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread. With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said: “See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall, Show Iron — Cold Iron — to be master of men all.”
“Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong. Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong. I forgive thy treason — I redeem thy fall — For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”
“Crowns are for the valiant — sceptres for the bold! Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!” “Nay!” said the Baron, kneeling in his hall, “But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all! Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!”
