Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/232

 of stale food. For meals, plate scourings. For sleep and time to get to it, eight hours. For living, the rest of the day."

"It's awful, awful," said Victoria. "They might as well be dead."

"They will be soon," said Farwell, "but what does that matter? There are plenty of waiters. In the shadow of the olive groves tonight in far-off Calabria, at the base of the vine-clad hills, couples are walking hand in hand, with passion flashing in their eyes. Brown peasant boys are clasping to their breast young girls with dark hair, white teeth, red lips, hearts that beat and quiver with ecstasy. They tell a tale of love and hope. So we shall not be short of waiters."

Tonight

(Contemporary American poet)

Tonight the beautiful, chaste moon From heaven's height Scatters over the bridal earth Blossoms of white; And spring's renewed glad charms unfold Endless delight.

Such mystic wonder the hushed world wears, Evil has fled Far, far away; in every heart God reigns instead Tonight a starving virgin sells Her soul for bread.