Shrieks out of smoke, a flame of dung-straw fire That is not quenched but hath for only fruit What writhes and dies not in its rotten root: Two things made flesh, the visible desire...
Do you want to hear a story With a nobler praise than "glory," Of a man who loved the right like heaven and loathed the wrong like hell? Then, that story let me tell you Once again, though it as well you...
. . . One rises now and speaks: "The Cause is one - Labour o'er all the earth! Shan't we, then, share With these, whose very flesh and blood's our own, All that we can of what we have and are? ...
Man of despair and death, Bought and slaved in the gangs, Starved and stripped and left To the pitiful pitiless night, Away with your selfish thoughts! Touch not your ignorant life!...
You have done well, we say it. You are dead, And, of the man that with the right hand takes Less than the left hand gives, let it be said He has done something for our wretched sakes....
. . . In a dark street she met and spoke to me, Importuning, one wet and mild March night. We walked and talked together. O her tale Was very common; thousands know it all!...
Grave this deep in your hearts, Forget not the tale of the past! Never, never believe That any will help you, or can, Saving only yourselves! What have the gentlemen done, Peerless haters of wrong,...