Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/115

 And so dies, an unrepenting sinner—
 * Pitched into her pauper's grave what time

That most noble lord rides by to dinner
 * Who had wooed her in her innocent prime.

And in after-dinner talk he preaches
 * Resignation—o'er his burgundy—

Till a grateful public dubs his speeches
 * Oracles of true philanthropy.

Peace ye call this? Call this justice, meted
 * Equally to rich and poor alike?

Better than this peace the battle's heated
 * Cannon-balls that ask not whom they strike!

Better than this masquerade of culture
 * Hiding strange hyæna appetites,

The frank ravening of the raw-necked vulture
 * As its beak the senseless carrion smites.

What of men in bondage, toiling blunted
 * In the roaring factory's lurid gloom?