Classic Poem

1.

These pauper-kings, these tax-fed things,
What say these murderous robber-kings?
To man with labour bow'd,
" Receive thy parish shroud! "
To woman, " Seek the homeless street,
Or prayerless grave, where four roads meet! "
To enterprise, " Be bold in vain! "
To failing strength, " Still toil for pain! "
To youth, " Thou shalt not hope! " to age, " Thou shalt not rest! "
To care-worn skill, " Thou shalt not thrive! " to genius, " Die, unbless'd! "

2.

Cain! Cain! the murder'd and the just
Speak to their brother from the dust:
" Cain! " saith scath'd Hope, " restore
The smile that once I wore. "
" Replant, " saith Love, " my rose replant! "
" Reclothe my bones! " saith buried want;
Thy convicts cry, " Recal our youth!
Oh, bring us back its trust in truth! "
And all cry, " Uncreate the pangs thou yet may'st share,
In millions of yet living hearts, law-wedded to despair! "