Page:The Man with the Hoe, Markham, 1900.djvu/120



To High-born Poets

There comes a pitiless cry from the oppressed—

A cry from the toilers of Babylon for their rest.—

O Poet, thou art holden with a vow:

The light of higher worlds is on thy brow,

And Freedom's star is soaring in thy breast.

Go, be a dauntless voice, a bugle-cry

In darkening battle when the winds are high—

A clear sane cry wherein the God is heard

To speak to men the one redeeming word.

No peace for thee, no peace,

Till blind oppression cease;

The stones cry from the walls,

Till the gray injustice falls—

Till strong men come to build in freedom-fate

The pillars of the new Fraternal State. 92