Page:The Man with the Hoe, Markham, 1900.djvu/123

Rh Where now men huddle together and whisper and harken,

Or hold their bleak hands over embers that die out and darken.

The anarchies gather and thunder: few, few are the fraters,

And loud is the revel at night in the camp of the traitors.

Say, Shelley, where are you—where are you? our hearts are a-breaking!

The fight in the terrible darkness—the shame—the forsaking!

The leaves shower down and are sport for the winds that come after;

And so are the Toilers in all lands the jest and the laughter

Of nobles—the Toilers scourged on in the furrow as cattle,

Or flung as a meat to the cannons that hunger in battle. 95