Five thousand children in New York, each year,
Gasp for bare life, in cellars damp and drear,
'Neath the street level.
Deprived of sunshine, chill'd with vapor-blights,
Say what are their "inalienable rights,"
Social and civil?
The right to starve, the right to beg, to float
Among the city's scum—perchance to vote
Some day as "freemen."
Ah! yes, the polls their sovereignty declare,
Not so—in sordid chains they're oft led there
By Faction's Demon.
"The rich and poor are equal," says the State,
But the strong laws of destiny and fate,
O'erride its polity.
Both have a right to seek for "happiness;"
But, with such different chances of success,
Where's the equality?
Here wealth like a Colossus doth bestride
With legs of gold, the sorrow-troubled tide
Of Want and Squallor.
Nay, more, Law, Justice, oft becomes the tool
Of that bright tyrant, callous, calm, and cool,
Almighty Dollar!
"All men are equal," where? Why, in their dust,
Your worm cares little for your "upper crust!"
(What impropriety!)
And heaven receives alike all spirits pure,
On equal terms, and heaven is therefore sure
Of good society.
[SEEING THE ECLIPSE.—Anon.]
[To be spoken without gesture, as if the speaker were telling a friend his experience.]
Did you ever see an eclipse? No? Well, you did miss a sight, got up for the especial benefit of darkies, perhaps, but every white man, of good standing, could enjoy it—if he was up. I'll tell you my experience, and you may judge what you have lost by not seeing the eclipse.