justice

Where the needle-woman toils
Through the night with hand and brain,
Till the sickly daylight shudders like a spectre at the pain –
Till her eyes seem to crawl,
And her brain seems to creep –

And her limbs are all a-tremble for the want of rest and sleep!
It is there the fire-brand blazes in my blood; and it is there
That I see the crimson banner of the Children of Despair!
That I feel the soul and music in a rebel's battle song,
And the greatest love for justice and the hottest hate for wrong!

Human reason is beautiful and invincible.
No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books,
No sentence of banishment can prevail against it.
It establishes the universal ideas in language,
And guides our hand so we write Truth and Justice
With capital letters, lie and oppression with small.
It puts what should be above things as they are,
Is an enemy of despair and a friend of hope.
It does not know Jew from Greek or slave from master,
Giving us the estate of the world to manage.
It saves austere and transparent phrases

My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent
and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets.
He has several likenesses, like stars and years, like numerals.

My quietness has a number of naked selves,
so many pistols I have borrowed to protect myselves
from creatures who too readily recognize my weapons
and have murder in their heart!
though in winter
they are warm as roses, in the desert
taste of chilled anisette.
At times, withdrawn,
I rise into the cool skies

LONDON, thou art of townes A per se.
   Soveraign of cities, seemliest in sight,
Of high renoun, riches and royaltie;
   Of lordis, barons, and many a goodly knyght;
   Of most delectable lusty ladies bright;
Of famous prelatis, in habitis clericall;
   Of merchauntis full of substaunce and of myght:
London, thou art the flour of Cities all.

Gladdith anon, thou lusty Troynovaunt,
   Citie that some tyme cleped was New Troy;
In all the erth, imperiall as thou stant,

Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere
(Horace, Epistles II.i.267)
While you, great patron of mankind, sustain
The balanc'd world, and open all the main;
Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend;
How shall the Muse, from such a monarch steal
An hour, and not defraud the public weal?
Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,
After a life of gen'rous toils endur'd,

116

I had some things that I called mine—
And God, that he called his,
Till, recently a rival Claim
Disturbed these amities.

The property, my garden,
Which having sown with care,
He claims the pretty acre,
And sends a Bailiff there.

The station of the parties
Forbids publicity,
But Justice is sublimer
Than arms, or pedigree.

I'll institute an "Action"—
I'll vindicate the law—
Jove! Choose your counsel—
I retain "Shaw"!

Salvation, righteousness, and strength in Christ.

Isa. 45:21-25.

The Lord on high proclaims
His Godhead from his throne:
"Mercy and justice are the names
By which I will be known.

"Ye dying souls that sit
In darkness and distress,
Look from the borders of the pit
To my recov'ring grace."

Sinners shall hear the sound;
Their thankful tongues shall own,
"Our righteousness and strength is found
In thee, the Lord, alone."

In thee shall Isr'el trust,

Salvation, righteousness, and strength in Christ.

Isa. 45:21-25.

Jehovah speaks! let Isr'el hear;
Let all the earth rejoice and fear,
While God's eternal Son proclaims
His sovereign honors and his names.

"I am the last, and I the first,
The Savior God, and God the just;
There's none beside pretends to show
Such justice and salvation too.

["Ye that in shades of darkness dwell,
Just on the verge of death and hell,
Look up to me from distant lands;

Submission to afflictive providences.

Job 1:21.

Naked as from the earth we came,
And crept to life at first,
We to the earth return again,
And mingle with our dust.

The dear delights we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,
Are but short favors borrowed now,
To be repaid anon.

'Tis God that lifts our comforts high,
Or sinks them in the grave;
He gives, and, blessed be his name!
He takes but what he gave.

Peace, all our angry passions, then;
Let each rebellious sigh

Hell; or, The vengeance of God.

With holy fear and humble song,
The dreadful God our souls adore;
Rev'rence and awe become the tongue
That speaks the terrors of his power.

Far in the deep where darkness dwells,
The land of horror and despair,
Justice has built a dismal hell,
And laid her stores of vengeance there.

[Eternal plagues, and heavy chains,
Tormenting racks, and fiery coals,
And darts t' inflict immortal pains,
Dyed in the blood of damned souls.]