Mount Rennie. (The Time-Spirit speaks.)

"Poor lads! And you for others' wrongs and sins
Whose dead past greed and lust did never wince
    To make your fathers, mothers, and now you
Miserable fiends in hell, must expiate, since

    "We the more guilty, we the strong, the few,
    Whose triumph thrusts you down into the stew,
Fear lest our victims rise and rend us, fear
    This problem mad we will not listen to!

"Victims, with her your fellow-victim here,
Blind, deaf, dumb beasts, the hour shall yet appear
    When men, when justicers resolute-terrible, you
Shall speak and all men tremble as they hear!"

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Francis William Lauderdale Adams (27 September 1862 – 4 September 1893) was an English writer, poet, dramatist, and social reformer. His literary work often reflected his radical socialist views. Adams lived a life marred by poverty and struggles with his health, eventually committing suicide at the age of 30. Despite his brief life, his contributions to literature and social thought remain significant.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

To The Emperor William.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

To An Unionist.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

New Guinea "Converts."

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

In An East End Hovel. To A Workman, A Would-Be Suicide.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

English

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The Peasants' Revolt. {35}

Thro' the mists of years,
    Thro' the lies of men,
Your bloody sweat and tears,
Your desperate hopes and fears
    Reach us once again.

Brothers, who long ago,
    For life's bitter sake
Toiled and suffered so,
Robbery, insult, blow,
    Rope and sword and stake:

Toiled and suffered, till
    It burst, the brightening hope,
"Might and right" and "will and skill,"
That scorned, and does, and will,
    Sword and stake and rope!

Wat and Jack and John,
    Tyler, Straw, and Ball,
Souls that faltered not,
Hearts like white iron hot,
    Still we hear your call!

Yes, your "bell is rung,"
    Yes, for "now is time!"
Come hither, every one,
Brave ghosts whose day's not done,
    Avengers of old rime, -<...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Mount Rennie." {95}

(The Australian Press speaks).


"Kill them! Yes, hang them all!
    They are fiends, just that!
And we're all agreed fiends should be sent
    To a place that's hot.

"They were fiends, too, of themselves;
    They delighted in it!
It's all their fault, their own fault!
    Don't listen a minute!

"Don't let anyone talk
    About 'fatality,' 'lot,'
That sort of talk (excuse us!)
    Is just damned rot.

"You and I, p'raps, are what we're made.
    If I'm dying of phthisis,
It's because my father passed on
    To me what the price is

"Of his excesses, and I,
    Overworked, come off worse.
Just so; but, with these young fiends,
    It's quite the reverse.

"Their homes were happy and bright,

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Aux Ternes. {46} (Paris.)

SHE. - "Up and down, up and down,
            From early eve to early day.
        Life is quicker in the town;
            When you've leisure, anyway!

        "Down and up, down and up!
            O will no one stop and speak?
        I would really like to sup,
            And my limbs are heavy and weak.

        "What's my price, sir? I'm no Jew.
            If with me you wish to sleep,
        'Tis five francs, sir. Surely you
            Will admit that that is cheap?"

HE. - "Christ, if you are not stone blind,
        Stone deaf also, you know it is
    Christian towns leave far behind
        Sodom and thos...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Vice.

[From Farmer Harrington's Calendar.]

SEPTEMBER 10, 18 - .

        Ah me! it makes a sinner wondrous blue,
        To see so many other sinners too!
        When I rake over all my faults, and then
        Notice the same, or worse, in other men,
        It makes me very much surprised and sad,
        That Heaven should see Earth turning out so bad!

        Vice, vice, vice, vice! The country's mean enough,
        And has some villains that are pretty rough;
        But in this town, where art and nature both
        Are shoved into their very greatest growth,
        And where the utmost of all things is found,
        The Devil has his best men on the ground,
        And gives them weapons meeting his own views,
        And all th...

William McKendree Carleton

An "Assassin."

. . . They caught them at the bend. He and his son
Sat in the car, revolvers in their laps.
From either side the stone-walled wintry road
There flashed thin fire-streaks in the rainy dusk.
The father swayed and fell, shot through the chest.
The son was up, but one more fire-streak leaped
Close from the pitch-black of a thick-set bush
Not five yards from him, and lit all the face
Of him whose sweetheart walked the Dublin streets
For lust of him who gave one yell and fell
Flat on the stony road, a sweltering corse.
Then they came out, the men who did this thing,
And looked upon their hatred's retribution,
While heedlessly the rattling car fled on.
Grey-haired old wolf, your letch for peasants' blood,
For peasants' sweat turned gold and silver and bronze,
Is done...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

To John Ruskin. (After Reading His "Modern Painters.")

Yes, you do well to mock us, you
    Who knew our bitter woe -
To jeer the false, deny the true
    In us blind struggling low,

While, on your pleasant place aloft
    With flowers and clouds and streams,
At our black sweat and toil you scoffed
    That marred your idle dreams.

"Oh, freedom, what was that to us,"
(You'd shout down to us there),
"Except the freedom foul, vicious,
    From all of good and fair?

"Obedience, faith, humility,
    To us were empty names." -
The like to you (might we reply)
    Whose noisy life proclaims

Presumption, want of human love,
    Impatience, filthy breath, {32}
The snob in soul who looks above,
    Trampling on what...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams