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+<title>Chants for Socialists, by William Morris</title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Chants for Socialists, by William Morris
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: Chants for Socialists
+
+
+Author: William Morris
+
+
+
+Release Date: October 26, 2014 [eBook #3170]
+[This file was first posted on January 30, 2001]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHANTS FOR SOCIALISTS***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1885 Socialist League Office edition by
+David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/tpb.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Decorative header"
+title=
+"Decorative header"
+ src="images/tps.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<h1>CHANTS <span class="smcap">for</span> SOCIALISTS</h1>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br
+/>
+WILLIAM MORRIS.</p>
+
+<div class="gapshortline">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><b>CONTENTS</b>:</p>
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td><p>The Day is Coming.</p>
+<p>The Voice of Toil.</p>
+<p>The Message of the March Wind.</p>
+</td>
+<td><p>No Master.</p>
+<p>All for the Cause.</p>
+<p>The March of the Workers.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">Down Among the Dead
+Men.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center">LONDON:<br />
+<b>Socialist League Office</b>,<br />
+13 FARRINGDON ROAD, HOLBORN VIADUCT, E.C.<br />
+1885.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>PRICE ONE PENNY</i>.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>I have
+looked at this claim by the light of history and my own
+conscience, and it seems to me so looked at to be a most just
+claim, and that resistance to it means nothing short of a denial
+of the hope of civilisation.</p>
+<p>This then is the claim:&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>It is right and necessary that all men should have work to
+do which shall be worth doing</i>, <i>and be of itself pleasant
+to do</i>; <i>and which should be done under such conditions as
+would make it neither over-wearisome nor over-anxious</i>.</p>
+<p>Turn that claim about as I may, think of it as long as I can,
+I cannot find that it is an exorbitant claim; yet again I say if
+Society would or could admit it, the face of the world would be
+changed; discontent and strife and dishonesty would be
+ended.&nbsp; To feel that we were doing work useful to others and
+pleasant to ourselves, and that such work and its due reward
+<i>could</i> not fail us!&nbsp; What serious harm could happen to
+us then?&nbsp; And the price to be paid for so making the world
+happy is Revolution.</p>
+<h2><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>THE DAY
+IS COMING.</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span> hither lads,
+and hearken, for a tale there is to tell,<br />
+Of the wonderful days a-coming when all shall be better than
+well.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And the tale shall be told of a country, a land
+in the midst of the sea,<br />
+And folk shall call it England in the days that are going to
+be.</p>
+<p class="poetry">There more than one in a thousand in the days
+that are yet to come,<br />
+Shall have some hope of the morrow, some joy of the ancient
+home.</p>
+<p class="poetry">For then&mdash;laugh not, but listen, to this
+strange tale of mine&mdash;<br />
+All folk that are in England shall be better lodged than
+swine.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Then a man shall work and bethink him, and
+rejoice in the deeds of his hand,<br />
+Nor yet come home in the even too faint and weary to stand.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Men in that time a-coming shall work and have
+no fear<br />
+For to-morrow&rsquo;s lack of earning and the hunger-wolf
+anear.</p>
+<p class="poetry">I tell you this for a wonder, that no man then
+shall be glad<br />
+Of his fellow&rsquo;s fall and mishap to snatch at the work he
+had.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+4</span>For that which the worker winneth shall then be his
+indeed,<br />
+Nor shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no
+seed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">O strange new wonderful justice!&nbsp; But for
+whom shall we gather the gain?<br />
+For ourselves and for each of our fellows, and no hand shall
+labour in vain.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Then all <i>mine</i> and all <i>thine</i> shall
+be <i>ours</i>, and no more shall any man crave<br />
+For riches that serve for nothing but to fetter a friend for a
+slave.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And what wealth then shall be left us when none
+shall gather gold<br />
+To buy his friend in the market, and pinch and pine the sold?</p>
+<p class="poetry">Nay, what save the lovely city, and the little
+house on the hill,<br />
+And the wastes and the woodland beauty, and the happy fields we
+till.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And the homes of ancient stories, the tombs of
+the mighty dead;<br />
+And the wise men seeking out marvels, and the poet&rsquo;s
+teeming head;</p>
+<p class="poetry">And the painter&rsquo;s hand of wonder; and the
+marvellous fiddle-bow,<br />
+And the banded choirs of music:&mdash;all those that do and
+know.</p>
+<p class="poetry">For all these shall be ours and all
+men&rsquo;s, nor shall any lack a share<br />
+Of the toil and the gain of living in the days when the world
+grows fair.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Ah! such are the days that shall be!&nbsp; But
+what are the deeds of to-day,<br />
+In the days of the years we dwell in, that wear our lives
+away?</p>
+<p class="poetry">Why, then, and for what are we waiting?&nbsp;
+There are three words to speak.<br />
+<span class="smcap">We will it</span>, and what is the foeman but
+the dream-strong wakened and weak?</p>
+<p class="poetry"><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+5</span>O why and for what are we waiting? while our brothers
+droop and die,<br />
+And on every wind of the heavens a wasted life goes by.</p>
+<p class="poetry">How long shall they reproach us where crowd on
+crowd they dwell,<br />
+Poor ghosts of the wicked city, the gold-crushed hungry hell?</p>
+<p class="poetry">Through squalid life they laboured, in sordid
+grief they died,<br />
+Those sons of a mighty mother, those props of England&rsquo;s
+pride.</p>
+<p class="poetry">They are gone; there is none can undo it, nor
+save our souls from the curse;<br />
+But many a million cometh, and shall they be better or worse?</p>
+<p class="poetry">It is we must answer and hasten, and open wide
+the door<br />
+For the rich man&rsquo;s hurrying terror, and the slow-foot hope
+of the poor.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Yea, the voiceless wrath of the wretched, and
+their unlearned discontent,<br />
+We must give it voice and wisdom till the waiting-tide be
+spent.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Come, then, since all things call us, the
+living and the dead<br />
+And o&rsquo;er the weltering tangle a glimmering light is
+shed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Come, then, let us cast off fooling, and put by
+ease and rest<br />
+For the <span class="smcap">cause</span> alone is worthy till the
+good days bring the best</p>
+<p class="poetry">Come, join in the only battle wherein no man
+can fail,<br />
+Where whoso fadeth and dieth, yet his deed shall still
+prevail.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Ah! come, cast off all fooling, for this, at
+least we know:<br />
+That the Dawn and the Day is coming, and forth the Banners
+go.</p>
+<h2><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>THE
+VOICE OF TOIL.</h2>
+<p class="poetry">I heard men saying, Leave hope and praying,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; All days shall be as all have been;<br />
+To-day and to-morrow bring fear and sorrow<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The never-ending toil between.</p>
+<p class="poetry">When Earth was younger mid toil and hunger,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In hope we strove, and our hands were strong<br />
+Then great men led us, with words they fed us,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And bade us right the earthly wrong.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Go read in story their deeds and glory,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Their names amidst the nameless dead;<br />
+Turn then from lying to us slow-dying<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In that good world to which they led;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Where fast and faster our iron master,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The thing we made, for ever drives,<br />
+Bids us grind treasure and fashion pleasure<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For other hopes and other lives.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Where home is a hovel and dull we grovel,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Forgetting that the world is fair;<br />
+Where no babe we cherish, lest its very soul perish<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Where our mirth is crime, our love a snare</p>
+<p class="poetry">Who now shall lead us, what god shall heed
+us<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As we lie in the hell our hands have won<br />
+For us are no rulers but fools and befoolers,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The great are fallen, the wise men gone</p>
+<p class="poetry"><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+7</span>I heard men saying, Leave tears and praying,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The sharp knife heedeth not the sheep;<br />
+Are we not stronger than the rich and the wronger,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; When day breaks over dreams and sleep?</p>
+<p class="poetry">Come, shoulder to shoulder ere the world grows
+older!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Help lies in nought but thee and me;<br />
+Hope is before us, the long years that bore us,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Bore leaders more than men may be.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Let dead hearts tarry and trade and marry,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And trembling nurse their dreams of mirth,<br />
+While we the living our lives are giving<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To bring the bright new world to birth.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Come, shoulder to shoulder ere earth grows
+older!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The Cause spreads over land and sea;<br />
+Now the world shaketh, and fear awaketh,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And joy at last for thee and me.</p>
+<h2><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>ALL FOR
+THE CAUSE.</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hear</span> a word, a word
+in season, for the day is drawing nigh,<br />
+When the Cause shall call upon us, some to live, and some to
+die!</p>
+<p class="poetry">He that dies shall not die lonely, many an one
+hath gone before,<br />
+He that lives shall bear no burden heavier than the life they
+bore.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Nothing ancient is their story, e&rsquo;en but
+yesterday they bled,<br />
+Youngest they of earth&rsquo;s belov&euml;d, last of all the
+valiant dead.</p>
+<p class="poetry">E&rsquo;en the tidings we are telling was the
+tale they had to tell,<br />
+E&rsquo;en the hope that our hearts cherish, was the hope for
+which they fell.</p>
+<p class="poetry">In the grave where tyrants thrust them, lies
+their labour and their pain,<br />
+But undying from their sorrow springeth up the hope again.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Mourn not therefore, nor lament it that the
+world outlives their life;<br />
+Voice and vision yet they give us, making strong our hands for
+strife.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Some had name, and fame, and honour,
+learn&rsquo;d they were, and wise and strong;<br />
+Some were nameless, poor, unlettered, weak in all but grief and
+wrong.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Named and nameless all live in us; one and all
+they lead us yet<br />
+Every pain to count for nothing, every sorrow to forget.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+9</span>Hearken how they cry, &ldquo;O happy, happy ye that ye
+were born<br />
+In the sad slow night&rsquo;s departing, in the rising of the
+morn.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Fair the crown the Cause hath for you,
+well to die or well to live<br />
+Through the battle, through the tangle, peace to gain or peace to
+give.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Ah, it may be!&nbsp; Oft meseemeth, in the days
+that yet shall be,<br />
+When no slave of gold abideth &rsquo;twixt the breadth of sea to
+sea,</p>
+<p class="poetry">Oft, when men and maids are merry, ere the
+sunlight leaves the earth,<br />
+And they bless the day belov&euml;d, all too short for all their
+mirth,</p>
+<p class="poetry">Some shall pause awhile and ponder on the
+bitter days of old,<br />
+Ere the toil of strife and battle overthrew the curse of
+gold;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Then &rsquo;twixt lips of loved and lover
+solemn thoughts of us shall rise;<br />
+We who once were fools and dreamers, then shall be the brave and
+wise.</p>
+<p class="poetry">There amidst the world new-builded shall our
+earthly deeds abide,<br />
+Though our names be all forgotten, and the tale of how we
+died.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Life or death then, who shall heed it, what we
+gain or what we lose?<br />
+Fair flies life amid the struggle, and the Cause for each shall
+choose.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Hear a word, a word in season, for the day is
+drawing nigh,<br />
+When the Cause shall call upon us, some to live and some to
+die!</p>
+<h2><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>NO
+MASTER.</h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">(<span class="smcap">Air</span>:
+&ldquo;The Hardy Norseman.&rdquo;)</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">&mdash;o&mdash;</p>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Saith</span> man to man,
+We&rsquo;ve heard and known<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That we no master need<br />
+To live upon this earth, our own,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In fair and manly deed.<br />
+The grief of slaves long passed away<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For us hath forged the chain,<br />
+Till now each worker&rsquo;s patient day<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Builds up the House of Pain.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And we, shall we too, crouch and quail,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Ashamed, afraid of strife,<br />
+And lest our lives untimely fail<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Embrace the Death in Life?<br />
+Nay, cry aloud, and have no fear,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; We few against the world;<br />
+Awake, arise! the hope we bear<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Against the curse is hurled.</p>
+<p class="poetry">It grows and grows&mdash;are we the same,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The feeble band, the few?<br />
+Or what are these with eyes aflame,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And hands to deal and do?<br />
+This is the host that bears the word,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &ldquo;<span class="smcap">No Master high or
+low</span>&rdquo;&mdash;<br />
+A lightning flame, a shearing sword,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; A storm to overthrow.</p>
+<h2><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>THE
+MARCH OF THE WORKERS.</h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">(<span class="smcap">Air</span>:
+&ldquo;John Brown.&rdquo;)</p>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> is this, the
+sound and rumour?&nbsp; What is this that all men hear,<br />
+Like the wind in hollow valleys when the storm is drawing
+near,<br />
+Like the rolling on of ocean in the eventide of fear?<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&rsquo;Tis the people marching on.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Whither go they, and whence come they?&nbsp;
+What are these of whom ye tell?<br />
+In what country are they dwelling &rsquo;twixt the gates of
+heaven and hell?<br />
+Are they mine or thine for money?&nbsp; Will they serve a master
+well?<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Still the rumour&rsquo;s marching on.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Hark the
+rolling of the thunder!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Lo the sun! and lo thereunder<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Riseth wrath, and hope, and
+wonder,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+And the host comes marching on.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Forth they come from grief and torment; on they
+wend toward health and mirth,<br />
+All the wide world is their dwelling, every corner of the
+earth.<br />
+Buy them, sell them for thy service!&nbsp; Try the bargain what
+&rsquo;tis worth,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+For the days are marching on.</p>
+<p class="poetry">These are they who build thy houses, weave thy
+raiment, win thy wheat,<br />
+Smooth the rugged, fill the barren, turn the bitter into
+sweet,<br />
+All for thee this day&mdash;and ever.&nbsp; What reward for them
+is meet?<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Till the host comes marching on.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Hark the
+rolling, etc.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+12</span>Many a hundred years passed over have they laboured deaf
+and blind;<br />
+Never tidings reached their sorrow, never hope their toil might
+find.<br />
+Now at last they&rsquo;ve heard and hear it, and the cry comes
+down the wind,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+And their feet are marching on.</p>
+<p class="poetry">O ye rich men hear and tremble! for with words
+the sound is rife:<br />
+&ldquo;Once for you and death we laboured; changed henceforward
+is the strife.<br />
+We are men, and we shall battle for the world of men and life;<br
+/>
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+And our host is marching on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Hark the
+rolling, etc.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Is it war, then?&nbsp; Will ye perish as
+the dry wood in the fire?<br />
+Is it peace?&nbsp; Then be ye of us, let your hope be our
+desire.<br />
+Come and live! for life awaketh, and the world shall never
+tire;<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+And hope is marching on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;On we march then, we the workers, and
+the rumour that ye hear<br />
+Is the blended sound of battle and deliv&rsquo;rance drawing
+near;<br />
+For the hope of every creature is the banner that we bear,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+And the world is marching on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Hark the
+rolling of the thunder!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Lo the sun! and lo thereunder<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Riseth wrath, and hope, and
+wonder,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+And the host comes marching on.</p>
+<h2><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>THE
+MESSAGE OF THE MARCH WIND.</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fair</span> now is the
+springtide, now earth lies beholding<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With the eyes of a lover, the face of the sun;<br />
+Long lasteth the daylight, and hope is enfolding<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The green-growing acres with increase begun.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Now sweet, sweet it is through the land to be
+straying<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &rsquo;Mid the birds and the blossoms and the beasts
+of the field;<br />
+Love mingles with love, and no evil is weighing<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; On thy heart or mine, where all sorrow is
+healed.</p>
+<p class="poetry">From township to township, o&rsquo;er down and
+by tillage<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Far, far have we wandered and long was the day,<br
+/>
+But now cometh eve at the end of the village,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Where over the grey wall the church riseth grey.</p>
+<p class="poetry">There is wind in the twilight; in the white
+road before us<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The straw from the ox-yard is blowing about;<br />
+The moon&rsquo;s rim is rising, a star glitters o&rsquo;er us,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And the vane on the spire-top is swinging in
+doubt.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Down there dips the highway, toward the bridge
+crossing over<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The brook that runs on to the Thames and the sea.<br
+/>
+Draw closer, my sweet, we are lover and lover;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; This eve art thou given to gladness and me.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Shall we be glad always?&nbsp; Come closer and
+hearken:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Three fields further on, as they told me down
+there,<br />
+When the young moon has set, if the March sky should darken,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; We might see from the hill-top the great
+city&rsquo;s glare.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+14</span>Hark, the wind in the elm-boughs!&nbsp; From London it
+bloweth,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And telleth of gold, and of hope and unrest;<br />
+Of power that helps not; of wisdom that knoweth,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; But teacheth not aught of the worst and the
+best.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Of the rich men it telleth, and strange is the
+story<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; How they have, and they hanker, and grip far and
+wide;<br />
+And they live and they die, and the earth and its glory<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Has been but a burden they scarce might abide.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Hark! the March wind again of a people is
+telling;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Of the life that they live there, so haggard and
+grim,<br />
+That if we and our love amidst them had been dwelling<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; My fondness had faltered, thy beauty grown dim.</p>
+<p class="poetry">This land we have loved in our love and our
+leisure<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For them hangs in heaven, high out of their
+reach;<br />
+The wide hills o&rsquo;er the sea-plain for them have no
+pleasure,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The grey homes of their fathers no story to
+teach.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The singers have sung and the builders have
+builded,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The painters have fashioned their tales of
+delight;<br />
+For what and for whom hath the world&rsquo;s book been gilded,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; When all is for these but the blackness of
+night?</p>
+<p class="poetry">How long, and for what is their patience
+abiding?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; How oft and how oft shall their story be told,<br />
+While the hope that none seeketh in darkness is hiding,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And in grief and in sorrow the world groweth
+old?</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p class="poetry">Come back to the inn, love, and the lights and
+the fire,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And the fiddler&rsquo;s old tune and the shuffling
+of feet;<br />
+For there in a while shall be rest and desire,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And there shall the morrow&rsquo;s uprising be
+sweet.</p>
+<p class="poetry"><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+15</span>Yet, love, as we wend, the wind bloweth behind us,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And beareth the last tale it telleth to-night,<br />
+How here in the spring-tide the message shall find us;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For the hope that none seeketh is coming to
+light.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Like the seed of midwinter, unheeded,
+unperished,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Like the autumn-sown wheat &rsquo;neath the snow
+lying green,<br />
+Like the love that o&rsquo;ertook us, unawares and
+uncherished,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Like the babe &rsquo;neath thy girdle that groweth
+unseen.</p>
+<p class="poetry">So the hope of the people now buddeth and
+groweth&mdash;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Rest fadeth before it, and blindness and fear;<br />
+It biddeth us learn all the wisdom it knoweth;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; It hath found us and held us, and biddeth us
+hear:</p>
+<p class="poetry">For it beareth the message: &ldquo;Rise up on
+the morrow<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And go on your ways toward the doubt and the
+strife;<br />
+Join hope to our hope and blend sorrow with sorrow,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And seek for men&rsquo;s love in the short days of
+life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="poetry">But lo, the old inn, and the lights, and the
+fire,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And the fiddler&rsquo;s old tune and the shuffling
+of feet;<br />
+Soon for us shall be quiet and rest and desire,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And to-morrow&rsquo;s uprising to deeds shall be
+sweet.</p>
+<h2><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>DOWN
+AMONG THE DEAD MEN.</h2>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, comrades,
+come, your glasses clink;<br />
+Up with your hands a health to drink,<br />
+The health of all that workers be,<br />
+In every land, on every sea.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And he that will
+this health deny,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Down among the
+dead men, down among the dead men,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Down, down,
+down, down,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Down among the
+dead men let him lie!</p>
+<p class="poetry">Well done! now drink another toast,<br />
+And pledge the gath&rsquo;ring of the host,<br />
+The people armed in brain and hand,<br />
+To claim their rights in every land.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And he that
+will, etc.</p>
+<p class="poetry">There&rsquo;s liquor left; come, let&rsquo;s be
+kind,<br />
+And drink the rich a better mind,<br />
+That when we knock upon the door,<br />
+They may be off and say no more.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And he that
+will, etc.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Now, comrades, let the glass blush red,<br />
+Drink we the unforgotten dead<br />
+That did their deeds and went away,<br />
+Before the bright sun brought the day.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And he that
+will, etc.</p>
+<p class="poetry">The Day?&nbsp; Ah, friends, late grows the
+night;<br />
+Drink to the glimmering spark of light,<br />
+The herald of the joy to be,<br />
+The battle-torch of thee and me!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And he that
+will, etc.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Take yet another cup in hand<br />
+And drink in hope our little band;<br />
+Drink strife in hope while lasteth breath,<br />
+And brotherhood in life and death;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And he that
+will, etc.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHANTS FOR SOCIALISTS***</p>
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