All this hath our lawyer eaten, and to-morrow must we go To a room near my master's shop, in the purlieus of Soho.
No words of its shabby meanness! But that is our prison-cell In the jail of weary London. Therein for us must dwell The hope of the world that shall be, that rose a glimmering spark As the last thin flame of our pleasure sank quavering in the dark.
Again the rich man jeereth: "The man is a coward, or worse -He bewails his feeble pleasure; he quails before the curse Which many a man endureth with calm and smiling face."Nay, the man is a man, by your leave! Or put yourself in his place, And see if the tale reads better. The haven of rest destroyed, And nothing left of the life that was once so well enjoyed But leave to live and labour, and the glimmer of hope deferred.
Now know I the cry of the poor no more as a story heard, But rather a wordless wail forced forth from the weary heart.
Now, now when hope ariseth I shall surely know my part.
There's a little more to tell. When those last words were said, At least I was yet a-working, and earning daily bread.
But now all that is changed, and meseems adown the stair That leads to the nethermost pit, man, wife and child must fare.
When I joined the Communist folk, I did what in me lay To learn the grounds of their faith. I read day after day Whatever books I could handle, and heard about and about What talk was going amongst them; and I burned up doubt after doubt, Until it befel at last that to others I needs must speak (Indeed, they pressed me to that while yet I was weaker than weak).
So I began the business, and in street-corners I spake To knots of men. Indeed, that made my very heart ache, So hopeless it seemed; for some stood by like men of wood;And some, though fain to listen, but a few words understood;And some but hooted and jeered: but whiles across some I came Who were keen and eager to hear; as in dry flax the flame So the quick thought flickered amongst them: and that indeed was a feast.
So about the streets I went, and the work on my hands increased;And to say the very truth betwixt the smooth and the rough It was work and hope went with it, and I liked it well enough:
Nor made I any secret of all that I was at But daily talked in our shop and spoke of this and of that.
Then vanished my money away, and like a fool I told Some one or two of the loss. Did that make the master bold?
Before I was one of his lot, and as queer as my head might be I might do pretty much as I liked. Well now he sent for me And spoke out in very words my thought of the rich man's jeer:
"Well, sir, you have got your wish, as far as I can hear, And are now no thief of labour, but an honest working man:
Now I'll give you a word of warning: stay in it as long as you can, This working lot that you like so: you're pretty well off as you are.
So take another warning: I have thought you went too far, And now I am quite sure of it; so make an end of your talk At once and for ever henceforth, or out of my shop you walk;There are plenty of men to be had who are quite as good as you.
And mind you, anywhere else you'll scarce get work to do, Unless you rule your tongue;--good morning; stick to your work."The hot blood rose to my eyes, somewhere a thought did lurk To finish both him and the job: but I knew now what I was, And out of the little office in helpless rage did I pass And went to my work, a SLAVE, for the sake of my child and my sweet.
Did men look for the brand on my forehead that eve as I went through the street?
And what was the end after all? Why, one of my shopmates heard My next night's speech in the street, and passed on some bitter word, And that week came a word with my money: "You needn't come again."And the shame of my four days' silence had been but grief in vain.
Well I see the days before me: this time we shall not die Nor go to the workhouse at once: I shall get work by-and-by, And shall work in fear at first, and at last forget my fear, And drudge on from day to day, since it seems that I hold life dear.
'Tis the lot of many millions! Yet if half of those millions knew The hope that my heart hath learned, we should find a deed to do, And who or what should withstand us? And I, e'en I might live To know the love of my fellows and the gifts that earth can give.
