Ho! thou who seekest late and long
A License from the Holy Book
For brutal lust and fiendish wrong,
Man of the Pulpit, look!
Lift up those cold and atheist eyes,
This ripe fruit of thy teaching see;
And tell us how to heaven will rise
The incense of this sacrifice
This blossom of the gallows tree!
Search out for slavery's hour of need
Some fitting text of sacred writ;
Give heaven the credit of deed
Which shames the nether pit.
Kneel, smooth blasphemer, unto Him
Whose truth is on thy lips a lie;
Ask that His bright winged cherubim
May bend around that scaffold grim
To guard and bless and sanctify.
O champion of the people's cause!
Suspend thy loud and vain rebuke
Of foreign wrong and Old World's laws,
Man of the Senate, look!
Was t...

    It's chess of sorts but
    reeks of you -
    the hand carved emerald rook, for one,
    and so many Black & White squares
    that tiptoe like many a patio stone
    between our warring minds.

    I think of rollaway mats
    lepers use to beg on,
    habitually to die on
    or marked cards that
    outside castle walls
    dicers' oaths
    must originate from.

    I am having trouble
    keeping the pieces straight.

    I mean, you're White
    & concluded the beginning of the end
    with first move; still, I'm prepared
    for nothing short of winning.

    Should we discuss this
    growing stalemate near
    the Bishop's mitre
    and exploding gun
    or against hungry faces of exp...

Of all the misfortunes as yet brought to pass
    By this comet-like Bill, with its long tail of speeches,
The saddest and worst is the schism which, alas!
    It has caused between Wetherel's waistcoat and breeches.

Some symptoms of this Anti-Union propensity
    Had oft broken out in that quarter before;
But the breach, since the Bill, has attained such immensity,
    Daniel himself could have scarce wisht it more.

Oh! haste to repair it, ye friends of good order,
    Ye Atwoods and Wynns, ere the moment is past;
Who can doubt that we tread upon Anarchy's border,
    When the ties that should hold men are loosening so fast?

Make Wetherel yield to "some sort of Reform"
    (As we all must, God help us! with very wry faces;)
And loud as he likes...

"Pass it along, the wiring party's going out" -
And yawning sentries mumble, "Wirers going out,"
Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with muffled thud,
They toil with stealthy haste and anger in their blood.

The Boche sends up a flare. Black forms stand rigid there,
Stock-still like posts; then darkness, and the clumsy ghosts
Stride hither and thither, whispering, tripped by clutching snare
Of snags and tangles.
    Ghastly dawn with vaporous coasts
Gleams desolate along the sky, night's misery ended.

Young Hughes was badly hit; I heard him carried away,
Moaning at every lurch; no doubt he'll die to-day.
But we can say the front-line wire's been safely mended.

We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation's slime;
Better a shred of a deep-dyed rag from the storms of the olden time.
From grander clouds in our `peaceful skies' than ever were there before
I tell you the Star of the South shall rise, in the lurid clouds of war.
It ever must be while blood is warm and the sons of men increase;
For ever the nations rose in storm, to rot in a deadly peace.
There comes a point that we will not yield, no matter if right or wrong,
And man will fight on the battle-field while passion and pride are strong,
So long as he will not kiss the rod, and his stubborn spirit sours,
And the scorn of Nature and curse of God are heavy on peace like ours.

There are boys out there by the western creeks, who hurry away from school
To climb the...

Thro' the mists of years,
    Thro' the lies of men,
Your bloody sweat and tears,
Your desperate hopes and fears
    Reach us once again.

Brothers, who long ago,
    For life's bitter sake
Toiled and suffered so,
Robbery, insult, blow,
    Rope and sword and stake:

Toiled and suffered, till
    It burst, the brightening hope,
"Might and right" and "will and skill,"
That scorned, and does, and will,
    Sword and stake and rope!

Wat and Jack and John,
    Tyler, Straw, and Ball,
Souls that faltered not,
Hearts like white iron hot,
    Still we hear your call!

Yes, your "bell is rung,"
    Yes, for "now is time!"
Come hither, every one,
Brave ghosts whose day's not done,
    Avengers of old rime, -<...

As lords their labourers' hire delay,
Fate quits our toil with hopes to come,
Which, if far short of present pay,
Still, owns a debt and names a sum.

Quit not the pledge, frail sufferer, then,
Although a distant date be given;
Despair is treason towards man,
And blasphemy to Heaven.

Nah chaps, pray dooant think it's a sarmon awm praichin,
If aw tell yo some nooations at's entered mi pate;
For ther's nubdy should turn a cold shoulder to taichin,
If th' moral be whoalsum an th' matter be reight.
We're goin throo a time o' bad trade an depression,
An scoors o' poor crayturs we meet ivvery day,
'At show bi ther faces they've had a hard lesson: -
That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way.

Aw couldn't but think as throo th' streets aw wor walkin,
An lukt i' shop winders whear fin'ry's displayed,
If they're able to sell it we're fooils to keep tawkin,
An liggin all th' blame on this slackness o' trade.
Tho times may be hard, yet ther's wealth, aye, an plenty,
An if fowk do ther duty aw'll venter to say,
Ther's noa reason a honest man's plate sho...

Who shall tell what did befall,
Far away in time, when once,
Over the lifeless ball,
Hung idle stars and suns?
What god the element obeyed?
Wings of what wind the lichen bore,
Wafting the puny seeds of power,
Which, lodged in rock, the rock abrade?
And well the primal pioneer
Knew the strong task to it assigned,
Patient through Heaven's enormous year
To build in matter home for mind.
From air the creeping centuries drew
The matted thicket low and wide,
This must the leaves of ages strew
The granite slab to clothe and hide,
Ere wheat can wave its golden pride.
What smiths, and in what furnace, rolled
(In dizzy aeons dim and mute
The reeling brain can ill compute)
Copper and iron, lead and gold?
What oldest star the fame can save
Of...

By the edge of the Atlantic, where the waves of Freedom roar,
And the breezes of the ocean chant a requiem to the shore,
On the Nation's eastern hill-tops, where its corner-stone was laid,
On the mountains of New England, where our fathers toiled and prayed,
Mid old Key-stone's rugged riches, which the miner's hand await,
Mid the never-ceasing commerce of the busy Empire State,
With the country's love and honor on each brave, devoted head,
Is a band of noble heroes - is our Army of the Dead.

On the lake-encircled homestead of the thriving Wolverine,
On the beauteous Western prairies, with their carpeting of green,
By the sweeping Mississippi, long our country's pride and boast,
On the rugged Rocky Mountains, and the weird Pacific coast,
In the listless, sunny Southland, wit...

By the edge of the Atlantic, where the waves of Freedom roar,
And the breezes of the ocean chant a requiem to the shore,
On the Nation's eastern hill-tops, where its corner-stone was laid,
On the mountains of New England, where our fathers toiled and prayed,
Mid old Key-stone's rugged riches, which the miner's hand await,
Mid the never-ceasing commerce of the busy Empire State,
With the country's love and honor on each brave, devoted head,
Is a band of noble heroes--is our Army of the Dead.

On the lake-encircled homestead of the thriving Wolverine,
On the beauteous Western prairies, with their carpeting of green,
By the sweeping Mississippi, long our country's pride and boast,
On the rugged Rocky Mountains, and the weird Pacific coast,
In the listless, sunny Southland, with...

"What I spent I had; what I saved, I lost; what I gave, I have."

But yesterday the tourney, all the eager joy of life,
The waving of the banners, and the rattle of the spears,
The clash of sword and harness, and the madness of the strife;
To-night begin the silence and the peace of endless years.

( One sings within.)

But yesterday the glory and the prize,
And best of all, to lay it at her feet,
To find my guerdon in her speaking eyes:
I grudge them not, they pass, albeit sweet.

The ring of spears, the winning of the fight,
The careless song, the cup, the love of friends,
The earth in spring to live, to feel the light
'Twas good the while it lasted: here it ends.

Remain the well-wrought deed in honour done,
The dole for Christ's dear sa...

    Heavy and solemn,
    A cloudy column,
    Through the green plain they marching came!
Measure less spread, like a table dread,
For the wild grim dice of the iron game.
The looks are bent on the shaking ground,
And the heart beats loud with a knelling sound;
Swift by the breasts that must bear the brunt,
Gallops the major along the front
        "Halt!"
And fettered they stand at the stark command,
And the warriors, silent, halt!

Proud in the blush of morning glowing,
What on the hill-top shines in flowing,
"See you the foeman's banners waving?"
"We see the foeman's banners waving!"
"God be with ye children and wife!"
Hark to the music the trump and the fife,
How they ring through the ranks which they rouse to the strife!
Thrilling the...

I.

The church of Dungannon is full to the door,
And sabre and spur clash at times on the floor,
While helmet and shako are ranged all along,
Yet no book of devotion is seen in the throng.
In the front of the altar no minister stands,
But the crimson-clad chief of these warrior bands;
And, though solemn the looks and the voices around,
You'd listen in vain for a litany's sound.
Say! what do they hear in the temple of prayer?
Oh! why in the fold has the lion his lair?


II.

Sad, wounded, and wan was the face of our isle,
By English oppression and falsehood and guile;
Yet when to invade it a foreign fleet steered,
To guard it for England the North volunteered.
From the citizen-soldiers the foe fled aghast--
Still they stood to their gun...

[Written while a field-worker in the Anti-Saloon League of Illinois.]


    King Arthur's men have come again.
    They challenge everywhere
    The foes of Christ's Eternal Church.
    Her incense crowns the air.
    The heathen knighthood cower and curse
    To hear the bugles ring,
    BUT SPEARS ARE SET, THE CHARGE IS ON,
    WISE ARTHUR SHALL BE KING!

    And Cromwell's men have come again,
    I meet them in the street.
    Stern but in this - no way of thorns
    Shall snare the children's feet.
    The reveling foemen wreak but waste,
    A sodden poisonous band.
    FIERCE CROMWELL BUILDS THE FLOWER-BRIGHT TOWNS,
    AND A MORE SUNLIT LAND!

    And Lincoln's men have come again.
    Up from the South he flayed,
   ...

They are creeping on through the cornfields yet, and they clamber amongst the rocks,
Ere they rush to stab with the bayonet and smash with the rifle-stocks.
And many are wounded, many are dead, some reel as if drunk with wine,
And fling them down on a blood-stained bed, and sleep in the firing-line.

And they dream, perhaps, of the days shut back, while the shrapnel shrieks and crashes,
And field-guns hammer and rifles crack, and the blood of a comrade splashes.
In horrible shambles they rest a while from murder by right divine;
They curse or jest, and they frown or smile, and they dream in the firing-line.

In the dreadful din of a ghastly fight they are shooting, murdering, men;
In the smothering silence of ghastly peace we murder with tongue and pen.
Where is heard the tap of ...

I

Imagination, ne'er before content,
But aye ascending, restless in her pride
From all that martial feats could yield
To her desires, or to her hopes present
Stooped to the Victory, on that Belgic field,
Achieved, this closing deed magnificent,
And with the embrace was satisfied.
Fly, ministers of Fame,
With every help that ye from earth and heaven may claim!
Bear through the world these tidings of delight!
Hours, Days, and Months, 'have' borne them in the sight
Of mortals, hurrying like a sudden shower
That landward stretches from the sea,
The morning's splendours to devour;
But this swift travel scorns the company
Of irksome change, or threats from saddening power.
'The shock is given, the Adversaries bleed'
'Lo, Justice triumphs! Earth is fr...

These were our children who died for our lands: they were dear in our sight.
We have only the memory left of their hometreasured sayings and laughter.
The price of our loss shall be paid to our hands, not another's hereafter.
Neither the Alien nor Priest shall decide on it. That is our right.
But who shall return us the children?
At the hour the Barbarian chose to disclose his pretences,
And raged against Man, they engaged, on the breasts that they bared for us,
The first felon-stroke of the sword he had longtime prepared for us,
Their bodies were all our defence while we wrought our defences.

They bought us anew with their blood, forbearing to blame us,
Those hours which we had not made good when the Judgment o'ercame us.
They believed us and perished for it. Our statecraft, ou...