When the liar king, The liar gentlemen, Wrought that foulest thing, Robbing, murdering Men who’d trusted them! {36} Come and lead the way, Hushed, implacable. What shall stop us, say, On that day, _our_ day?— _Not unloosened hell_! “ANALOGY.” (To D---- L----.) Had you lived when a tyrant king Strove to make all the slaves of one, With nobles and with churchmen you Had stood unflinching, pure and true, To annihilate that hateful thing Green Runnymeade beat out of John? Had you lived when a wanton crew, Flash scoundrels of a day outdone, Trod down the toilers birth derides, With Cromwell and his Ironsides The brave days had discovered you, Where Naseby saw the gallants run? And yet you,—this same knight in list For freedom in her narrow dawn Against that one, against those few, Vile king, vile nobles—you, yet you Stand by the bloody Capitalist, Fight with the pandar Gentleman! IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE. The stars shone faint through the smoky blue; The church-bells were ringing; Three girls, arms laced, were passing through, Tramping and singing. Their heads were bare; their short skirts swung As they went along; Their scarf-covered breasts heaved up, as they sung Their defiant song. It was not too clean, their feminine lay, But it thrilled me quite With its challenge to task-master villainous day And infamous night, With its threat to the robber rich, the proud, The respectable free. And I laughed and shouted to them aloud, And they shouted to me! “_Girls_, _that’s the shout_, _the shout we shall utter_ _When with rifles and spades_, _We stand_, _with the old Red Flag aflutter_, _On the barricades_!” A STREET FIGHT. (To MR F----.) {38} Sir, we approve your curling lip and nose At this vile sight. These men, these women are brute beasts?—Who knows, Sir, but that you are right? Panders and harlots, rogues and thieves and worse, We are a crew Whose pitiful plunder’s honoured in the purse Of gentlemen like you. Whom holy Competition’s taught (like us) “What’s thine is mine!”— _How we must love you who have made us thus_, _You may perhaps divine_! IN AN EAST END HOVEL. TO A WORKMAN, A WOULD-BE SUICIDE.