IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE.
The stars shone faint through the smoky blue;
The church-bells were ringing;
Three girls, arms laced, were passing through,
Tramping and singing.
Their heads were bare; their short skirts swung
As they went along;
Their scarf-covered breasts heaved up, as they sung
Their defiant song.
It was not too clean, their feminine lay,
But it thrilled me quite
With its challenge to task-master villainous day
And infamous night,
With its threat to the robber rich, the proud,
The respectable free.
And I laughed and shouted to them aloud,
And they shouted to me!
“Girls, that’s the shout, the shout we shall utter
When with rifles and spades,
We stand, with the old Red Flag aflutter,
On the barricades!”
A STREET FIGHT.
(To Mr F----.) [38]
Sir, we approve your curling lip and nose
At this vile sight.
These men, these women are brute beasts?—Who knows,
Sir, but that you are right?
Panders and harlots, rogues and thieves and worse,
We are a crew
Whose pitiful plunder’s honoured in the purse
Of gentlemen like you.
Whom holy Competition’s taught (like us)
“What’s thine is mine!”—
How we must love you who have made us thus,
You may perhaps divine!
IN AN EAST END HOVEL.
TO A WORKMAN, A WOULD-BE SUICIDE.
Man of despair and death,
Bought and slaved in the gangs,
Starved and stripped and left
To the pitiful pitiless night,
Away with your selfish thoughts!
Touch not your ignorant life!
Are there no masters of slaves,
Jeering, cynical, strong—
Are there no brigands (say),
With the words of Christ on their lips
And the daggers under their cloaks—
Is there not one of these
That you can steal on and kill?
O as the Swiss mountaineer
Dogged on the perilous heights
His disciplined conqueror foes: [39a]
Caught up one in his arms
And, laughing exultantly,
Plunged with him to the abyss:
So let it be with you!
An eye for an eye, and a tooth
For a tooth, and a life for a life!
Tell it, this hateful strong
Contemptuous hypocrite world,
Tell it that, if we must live
As dogs and as worse than dogs,
At least we can die like men!
Tell it there is a woe
Not for the conquered alone! [39b]
An eye for an eye, and a tooth
For a tooth, and a life for a life!
DUBLIN AT DAWN.
In the chill grey summer dawn-light
We pass through the empty streets;
The rattling wheels are all silent;
No friend his fellow greets.
Here and there, at the corners,
A man in a great-coat stands;
A bayonet hangs by his side, and
A rifle is in his hands.
This is a conquered city;
It speaks of war not peace;
And that’s one of the English soldiers
The English call “police.”
You see, at the present moment
That noble country of mine
Is boiling with indignation
At the memory of a “crime.”
In a path in the Phœnix Park where
The children romped and ran,
An Irish ruffian met his doom,
And an English gentleman.
For a hundred and over a hundred
Years on the country side
Men and women and children
Have slaved and starved and died,
That those who slaved and starved them
Might spend their earnings then,
And the Irish ruffians have a “good time,”
And the English gentlemen.
And that’s why at the present moment
That noble country of mine
Is boiling with indignation
At the memory of a “crime.”
For the Irish ruffians (they tell me),
And it looks as if ’twere true,
And the English gentlemen are so scarce,
We could not spare those two!
In the chill grey summer dawn-light
We pass through the empty streets;
The rattling wheels are all silent;
No friend his fellow greets.
Here and there, at the corners,
A man in a great-coat stands;
A bayonet hangs by his side, and
A rifle is in his hands.
This is a conquered city;
It speaks of war not peace;
And that’s one of the English soldiers
The English call “police.”