Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/431

 Exit Salvatore

(American poet, born 1888)

Salvatore's dead—a gap Where he worked in the ditch-edge, shovelling mud; Slanting brow; a head mayhap Rather small, like a bullet; hot southern blood; Surly now, now riotous With the flow of his joy; and his hovel bare, As his whole life is to us— A stone in his belly the whole of his share.

Body starved, but the soul secure, Masses to save it from Purgatory, And to dwell with the Son and the Virgin pure— Lucky Salvatore!

Salvatore's glad, for see On the hearse and the coffin, purple and black, Tassels, ribbons, broidery Fit for the Priest's or the Pope's own back; Flowers costly, waxen, gay, And the mates from the ditch-edge, pair after pair; Dirging band, and the Priest to pray, And the soul of the dead one pleasuring there.

Body starved, and the mind as well. Peace—let him rot in his costly glory, Cheated no more with a Heaven or Hell— Exit Salvatore.