This — Our World -
An iron world without a soul;
The patient sky above waiting;
The patient men below waiting;
The blue sky above forever listening, inviting, expectant;
The tired men below forever listening, hopeful, expectant;
The flaming sun above ordering abundance;
The flaming hell below denying enough;
Forever clamoring; forever devouring;
Devouring the men who are mates for mothers;
Fathers, steel-muscled, broad-chested, dominant;
The women, mothers of children:
The innocent children with white bodies, fluent,
Morning glories bearing the
Seeds of the unknowable Future.
Mothers, undulant, flexible; crypts of the ages; alabaster vessels of life.
In the dim dawn, before the whistles command,
I see an army, ever hungry, never full;
They bend gray faces above their pauper bowls,
And suck up eagerly Starvation's dole.
*****
They go down into the dripping corridors,
Into the dark womb of the Earth, their mother;
The mother who devours her children;
Nay not the Earth, their mother, devours them,
But they are devoured of men, their brethren.
They go down into the caverns of the Earth,
And sitting on the shoulders of each,
Crouching close at his ear, is Death.
They rain gold into the laps of their owners
Who bask in the sun and breathe the bright air
Sifted by the leaves:
But unto these toilers is tossed only enough
Of the spoil of their combat to keep Life's poor, gray smoke ascending.
*****
I see a monster.
His feet are of gold; his hands are of gold;
Golden is his head; his legs are golden;
But his heart is of clay.
His eyes are red as rubies,
And his golden hands are folded upon his swollen belly, which is of gold;
Into his open maw flows an endless procession:
Men with gray faces, women with sunken eyes,
And the little children who have never laughed.
*****
Can a machine conceive beauty,
Or has a machine imagination?
The inventions of Man have enslaved him,
He thinks not for himself; he works not for himself;
He dreams not at all; his hoping is only against hunger.
The monsters he has harnessed
Have become the obedient dragons of the masters,
And have snatched him into slavery,
The end of his toil is profit for the Oppressors.
Accursed is labor for another, without justice,
Contemptible is the labor of a slave.
Blessed is leisure, the miraculous gateway.
The ponderous machines should have unlocked the gates of the miraculous gardens, but they are ogres before the gates.
*****
Only Man has enforced his brother;
Only Man has compelled servitude.
Only Man has dwarfed his own godhood, cherished Poverty and exalted Ugliness.
Only Man has defied Nature and set up the idols of his ignorance.
He has denied Freedom and Beauty.
*****
Shall I sing of Liberty when there is no Liberty?
Shall I sing of Freedom when there is none?
Shall I sing love-songs to young lovers who are slaves?
My soul thrills even as I think the laburnum
In Spring-time thrills to link her chains of gold.
I am lost in the great miracle which Nature
Has endlessly wrought out of freedom.
But Man sits amid his own ruins, eating husks.
Do the slavish ones perceive the mysterious cycles,
Or the coming of new leaves?
Do they know that life may be glad for all
And love glad for all?
For them the Earth is only a grave.
Do the men and women cheated of their own souls
Know the unwearied freedom of the great Nurser?
They love by law and they unlove by law.
*****
The State! Force! Authority!
Hater of freedom; oppressor of the poor; creator of poverty;
Foster-mother of crime.
The unsated monster which devours
The men with despairful eyes; the
Women with tired faces,
And the little children whose fingers are so soft;
Rose-petals, delicately pink.
It feeds upon babes, blinking innocently ere they have waked to the morning.
It gluts upon the breasts of mothers, which are so white,
And upon the hearts of resolute men, which are so red.
Its wings are death; its eyes are graves;
Destroyer of the Soul.
*****
And if the State should die, whore of
Force and prostitute of privilege?
Then peace in freedom, and in freedom, peace.
The law of Self made beautiful.
Man shaking out his plumes into the sun.
Poets whose songs shall hold the ages listening;
Painters of visions,
Sculptors of gods, for men shall be as gods
In temples of grandeur;
Where happily the people shall worship Beauty.
Brotherhood shall be one with selfishness,
The Golden Rule the wisest selfishness.
Gone war; gone violence; gone brutal brows;
Gone poverty, oppression, crime and degradation.
Across the earth shall gleam Freedom,
As welcome unto men of weary souls as waking of a summer day
Unto the dawn-mad anarchy of birds.
*****
Onward, ever onward, it comes resistless as the Tide of Time; men with pale faces;
Women with despairful eyes,
And little children who have never laughed.
Dancing with the glee of demons are their fluttering banners; the rags of their poverty;
From mines, mills and factories;
From the slimy slums of cities;
From the dark caverns of the earth;
From the narrow and dripping tunnels of darkness, come the rats of Civilization;
From the clamorous and devouring penitentiaries of Industry;
From the white-hot, roaring hells of furnaces;
From the mind-madding laughter of the machines
And the devouring cruelty of the pest-houses of Greed.
*****
They are not going down into the pits.
They are not marching to the factories.
They are not going to the furnaces;
Nearer, more near; stronger; louder; more strong;
They come, and the mutter of their lips is
Revolution, Revolution, Revolution.
*****
Oh, Revolution, dread angel of the Awful Presence,
Warder of the gate of tears,
Open and set the captive free.
Dark, silent, loving, cruel and merciful one,
Hold yourself not aloof
Is there not enough?
You are our only hope, our only redeemer.
Come with thunder and with lightning,
That the air may be clear.
Come with deluge and tempest, that the earth may be purified.
Come with agony and bloody rain, that Life may be born anew,
The glad life of a perfect place, and songs stirring the air.
Pitch head-long from the cloudy battlements
And, with heavenly-fire, utterly destroy
This distorted and mis-shapen world.
The patient sky above waiting;
The patient men below waiting;
The blue sky above forever listening, inviting, expectant;
The tired men below forever listening, hopeful, expectant;
The flaming sun above ordering abundance;
The flaming hell below denying enough;
Forever clamoring; forever devouring;
Devouring the men who are mates for mothers;
Fathers, steel-muscled, broad-chested, dominant;
The women, mothers of children:
The innocent children with white bodies, fluent,
Morning glories bearing the
Seeds of the unknowable Future.
Mothers, undulant, flexible; crypts of the ages; alabaster vessels of life.
In the dim dawn, before the whistles command,
I see an army, ever hungry, never full;
They bend gray faces above their pauper bowls,
And suck up eagerly Starvation's dole.
*****
They go down into the dripping corridors,
Into the dark womb of the Earth, their mother;
The mother who devours her children;
Nay not the Earth, their mother, devours them,
But they are devoured of men, their brethren.
They go down into the caverns of the Earth,
And sitting on the shoulders of each,
Crouching close at his ear, is Death.
They rain gold into the laps of their owners
Who bask in the sun and breathe the bright air
Sifted by the leaves:
But unto these toilers is tossed only enough
Of the spoil of their combat to keep Life's poor, gray smoke ascending.
*****
I see a monster.
His feet are of gold; his hands are of gold;
Golden is his head; his legs are golden;
But his heart is of clay.
His eyes are red as rubies,
And his golden hands are folded upon his swollen belly, which is of gold;
Into his open maw flows an endless procession:
Men with gray faces, women with sunken eyes,
And the little children who have never laughed.
*****
Can a machine conceive beauty,
Or has a machine imagination?
The inventions of Man have enslaved him,
He thinks not for himself; he works not for himself;
He dreams not at all; his hoping is only against hunger.
The monsters he has harnessed
Have become the obedient dragons of the masters,
And have snatched him into slavery,
The end of his toil is profit for the Oppressors.
Accursed is labor for another, without justice,
Contemptible is the labor of a slave.
Blessed is leisure, the miraculous gateway.
The ponderous machines should have unlocked the gates of the miraculous gardens, but they are ogres before the gates.
*****
Only Man has enforced his brother;
Only Man has compelled servitude.
Only Man has dwarfed his own godhood, cherished Poverty and exalted Ugliness.
Only Man has defied Nature and set up the idols of his ignorance.
He has denied Freedom and Beauty.
*****
Shall I sing of Liberty when there is no Liberty?
Shall I sing of Freedom when there is none?
Shall I sing love-songs to young lovers who are slaves?
My soul thrills even as I think the laburnum
In Spring-time thrills to link her chains of gold.
I am lost in the great miracle which Nature
Has endlessly wrought out of freedom.
But Man sits amid his own ruins, eating husks.
Do the slavish ones perceive the mysterious cycles,
Or the coming of new leaves?
Do they know that life may be glad for all
And love glad for all?
For them the Earth is only a grave.
Do the men and women cheated of their own souls
Know the unwearied freedom of the great Nurser?
They love by law and they unlove by law.
*****
The State! Force! Authority!
Hater of freedom; oppressor of the poor; creator of poverty;
Foster-mother of crime.
The unsated monster which devours
The men with despairful eyes; the
Women with tired faces,
And the little children whose fingers are so soft;
Rose-petals, delicately pink.
It feeds upon babes, blinking innocently ere they have waked to the morning.
It gluts upon the breasts of mothers, which are so white,
And upon the hearts of resolute men, which are so red.
Its wings are death; its eyes are graves;
Destroyer of the Soul.
*****
And if the State should die, whore of
Force and prostitute of privilege?
Then peace in freedom, and in freedom, peace.
The law of Self made beautiful.
Man shaking out his plumes into the sun.
Poets whose songs shall hold the ages listening;
Painters of visions,
Sculptors of gods, for men shall be as gods
In temples of grandeur;
Where happily the people shall worship Beauty.
Brotherhood shall be one with selfishness,
The Golden Rule the wisest selfishness.
Gone war; gone violence; gone brutal brows;
Gone poverty, oppression, crime and degradation.
Across the earth shall gleam Freedom,
As welcome unto men of weary souls as waking of a summer day
Unto the dawn-mad anarchy of birds.
*****
Onward, ever onward, it comes resistless as the Tide of Time; men with pale faces;
Women with despairful eyes,
And little children who have never laughed.
Dancing with the glee of demons are their fluttering banners; the rags of their poverty;
From mines, mills and factories;
From the slimy slums of cities;
From the dark caverns of the earth;
From the narrow and dripping tunnels of darkness, come the rats of Civilization;
From the clamorous and devouring penitentiaries of Industry;
From the white-hot, roaring hells of furnaces;
From the mind-madding laughter of the machines
And the devouring cruelty of the pest-houses of Greed.
*****
They are not going down into the pits.
They are not marching to the factories.
They are not going to the furnaces;
Nearer, more near; stronger; louder; more strong;
They come, and the mutter of their lips is
Revolution, Revolution, Revolution.
*****
Oh, Revolution, dread angel of the Awful Presence,
Warder of the gate of tears,
Open and set the captive free.
Dark, silent, loving, cruel and merciful one,
Hold yourself not aloof
Is there not enough?
You are our only hope, our only redeemer.
Come with thunder and with lightning,
That the air may be clear.
Come with deluge and tempest, that the earth may be purified.
Come with agony and bloody rain, that Life may be born anew,
The glad life of a perfect place, and songs stirring the air.
Pitch head-long from the cloudy battlements
And, with heavenly-fire, utterly destroy
This distorted and mis-shapen world.
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