IN the chill grey summer dawn-lig… We pass through the empty streets; The rattling wheels are all silent… No friend his fellow greets. Here and there, at the corners,

WHERE’ER I go in this dense Ea… In sunshine or shade, I retch at the villainous feast That England has made, And my shame cannot understand,

A Memory LITTLE elfin maid, Old, though scarce two years, With your big dark hazel eyes Tenderer than tears,

O WE have loved you through cold… And pitiless frost, Consuming our offering of blood an… Gladly again and again and again, Though it all seemed lost,

In that rich Archipelago of sea With fiery hills, thick woods wher… Browses along the trees, and god-l… Leave monuments of speech too larg… There are strange forest-trees. F…

(Song of the American Sons of La… The Song O WE knew so well, dear Father, When we answered to your call, And the Southern Moloch stricken

WHERE is poor Jesus gone? He sits with Dives now, And his dogs flesh their teeth On Lazarus below. Where is poor Jesus gone?

SHRIEKS out of smoke, a flame o… That is not quenched but hath for… What writhes and dies not in its r… Two things made flesh, the visible… To match in filth the skunk, the a…

IN the black night, along the mud… Amid the threatening boughs and gh… Hark! sounds that gird the darknes… Murmurs and rumours and reverberan… Trampling, breaths, movements, and…

COME then, let us at least know… Let us not blink our eyes and say We did not understand; old age or… Benumbed our sense or stole our si… It is a lie—just that, a lie—to de…

O India, India, O my lovely land… At whose sweet throat the greedy… With fangs and lips that suck and… Clings, while around thee, band by… The loathsome shape twists, chaini…

UP from the oven pit, The hell where poor men toil, At the sunset hour he comes Clean-clothed, washed from soil. On the fo’c’s’le head he kneels,

One thing we praise you for that i… The dauntless eyes that faced the… The hand that never wearied in the… Till, through the dark’s despair,… It rose, that vision of forgotten…

To a Workman, a would-be Suicide MAN of despair and death, Bought and slaved in the gangs, Starved and stripped and left To the pitiful, pitiless night,

I TOIL, I toil, as toils a jade… Around the ever-changing changeles… From sunrise on to sunset, till th… That grinds in flour my heart and… And the ropes are loosed, and I m…