Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/56

46 To make love do the bitter work of hate!

And shall we for the chance of temporal bliss,

The one in thousands, for some trivial thing,

Submit the conscious spirit to the shame,

Or cheat life's blossom of its bitter fruit,

And dying find the near way to the grave?

Eternal Vengeance! Who that hath a soul,

The match of knowledge, would not break the bond,

The base, base thraldom? who would tame his will,

That from heaven's justice takes its liberty,

To do the lecherous and bloody act

Of natural being? who would game and lie,

And shrink into a cruel selfish heart,

To lord it o'er this serf-society?

Great souls might conquer pain; loss nor mischance

Can touch their essence; but 't is evil fixed

In the creative root and lift of all

The massive constitution of the world

That bankrupts hope; and who that lives escapes?

God's pity! when obedience makes us slaves,

Rebellion is the badge of loyalty!

To keep free souls is true nobility.

Unburden, breath, and thou, fine frame, unlock!"