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Show A WORKINGMAN'S SOLILOQUY By CLINTON BANCROFT I am the blind pant I am a part of the incomprehensible mind wf tJ nivea. I am the mm who first conceived the plow. My hands fashioned its rude shares of wood and with it turned the sol I raise the grain that feeds tne armies of the world. And I walk to and fro throughout die land seeking a Master. The Master rubs the Lamp. I build factories and miils and palaces for him. My children toil and sweat in his service; we live in a hut. I delve deep in the earth and mine the coal and iron thai give mankind dominion over brutes. I build roads of stone and steel, and bridge die torrents and chasms that divide the mountains. I build ereat ships md ail them o'er the seas, then bring them safely ihta port laden with treasure and meekly lay it at the Master's feet. Without my loyalty to Mastership, ignorance and poverty would vanish from th earth. And still I feel the goad Of human needs and bend beneath my load. The Master rubs the Ring. I fight the bardes of the king. At his command, I wound and slay my fellow worker without causw. X dive beneath the waters of the sea and sink and destroy that which I have built. The fabled powers of Jove are mine; the zephyr, my easy pathway to tha kluea. I drive my car among the clouds and mount above the storm. Beside me the grim reaper sits and grins As I hurl thunderbolts of death and fire Upon the children of the land for hire. Then back on earth, creeping and crawling By dyke and trench, a thing of filth and slime, I wait the dreaded hour to sally forth and kill Sated with scenes of carnage and sufFring the tormecs of the Amnf I envy the felon his prison life and easy death. I am a creature who feels Upon his neck the crush of iron heels. . I have made the lightning my messenger and conquered tone and space. I speak across- continents ana seas with tongues of fire and herald t'je Pentecost of War. Listen I a message to you, O fellow workingman I "Thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. Listen! a message to you, ye rulers of the world! "Thou shalt not kill." And above the awful raging of the storm of war and battle, I hear voices saying, ''Peace, be still." Tis the weeping 'of the Mothers and the children; Tis the broken-hearted sisters crying peace; But when I speak the word, war shall forever cease. The scales are falling from my eyes; X think I see a light arise. Denver Labor BuUetin, |