MOTHER EARTH
Monthly Magazine Devoted to Social Science and Literature
Published Every 15th of the Month
EMMA GOLDMAN, Publisher, P. O. Box 217, Madison Square Station,
New York, N. Y.
Vol. I MAY, 1906 No. 3
TIDINGS OF MAY.
The month of May is a grinning satire on the mode of living of human
beings of the present day.
The May sun, with its magic warmth, gives life to so much beauty, so
much value.
The dead, grayish brown of the forest and woods is transformed into a
rich, intoxicating, delicate, fragrant green.
Golden sun-rays lure flowers and grass from the soil, and kiss branch
and tree into blossom and bloom.
Tillers of the soil are beginning their activity with plough, shovel,
rake, breaking the firm grip of grim winter upon the Earth, so that the
mild spring warmth may penetrate her breast and coax into growth and
maturity the seeds lying in her womb.
A great festival seems at hand for which Mother Earth has adorned
herself with garments of the richest and most beautiful hues.
What does civilized humanity do with all this splendor? It speculates
with it. Usurers, who gamble with the necessities of life, will take
possession of Nature's gifts, of wheat and corn, fruit and flowers, and
will carry on a shameless trade with them, while millions of toilers,
both in country and city, will be permitted to partake of the earth's
riches only in medicinal doses and at exorbitant prices.
May's generous promise to mankind, that they were to receive in
abundance, is being broken and undone by the existing arrangements of
society.
The Spring sends its glad tidings to man through the jubilant songs
that stream from the throats of her feathered messengers. "Behold," they
sing, "I have such wealth to give away, but you know not how to take.
You count and bargain and weigh and measure, rather than feast at my
heavily laden tables. You crawl about on the ground, bent by worry and
dread, rather than drink in the free balmy air!"
The irony of May is neither cold nor hard. It contains a mild yet
convincing appeal to mankind to finally break the power of the Winter
not only in Nature, but in our social life,--to free itself from the
hard and fixed traditions of a dead past.
[Illustration]
ENVY.
By WALT WHITMAN.
_When I peruse the conquered fame of heroes, and the victories of
mighty generals,
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