Slim body, petal soft and fair,
Cool lips, cool, cool as evening skies—
Sweet, O sweet beyond compare.
Pale fingers delicate and rare,
To lull and lure caressing-wise;
Her beauty haunts me everywhere.
Here in my dungeon dim and bare
The last frail not of music dies—
Sweet, O sweet beyond compare.
My heart? I steeled it not to care. . . .
But God! her love is paradise!
Her beauty haunts me everywhere,
O sweet, sweet, sweet beyond compare!
WESLEY EVEREST
(Mutilated and murdered at Centralia, Washington, November 11th, 1919, by a mob of "respectable" businessmen.)
Torn and defiant as a wind-lashed reed,
Wounded he faced you as he stood at bay;
You dared not lynch him in the light of day,
But on your dungeon stones you let him bleed;
Night came . . . and you black vigilants of Greed . . .
Like human wolves, seized hard upon your prey,
Tortured and killed . . . and, silent slunk away
Without one qualm of horror at the deed.
Once . . . long ago . . . do you remember how
You hailed Him king for soldiers to deride—
You placed a scroll above His bleeding brow
And spat upon Him, scourged Him, crucified . . .?
A rebel unto Caesar—then as now
Alone, thorn-crowned, a spear wound in his side!