Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/112

 from the disagreeable aspects of a world that is good to you? You would still have your comfort and your heart's desire? Your ambitious fancy still turns to the daughter of privilege, dainty and lovely and sweet to the eyes?"

(The young man returns to the rich woman whom he had meant to marry.)

He knelt and taking the hem of her garment held it in his hands.

"See!" He crushed the soft fabric in his hand. "Silk with thread of gold. It is the tears! See!" He touched her girdle with his hands. "Gold and precious stones. They are the groans! See!" He put his fingers upon the golden hair. "A wreath of pure gold! Tears and groans and bloody sweat! You are a tissue of the lives of others, from feet to the crown upon your hair See!" His hot hands crushed the orchids at her breast. "Even the flower at your breast is stained with blood I see the tears of others on your robe. I hear their sighs in your voice. I see defeated desires in the light of your eyes. You are the Sacrifice of the many—I cannot touch!"

Isabella, or The Pot of Basil

(One of the loveliest of English poets, 1795-1821; a chemist's assistant, who lived unrecognized and died despairing)

With her two brothers this fair lady dwelt, Enrichèd from ancestral merchandise, And for them many a weary hand did swelt In torchèd mines and noisy factories, And many once proud-quiver'd loins did melt In blood from stinging whip,—with hollow eyes