oke, and bravely dared
The savage jest, the kindlier stone;
The armies mocked at him; he fared
To battle gaily--and alone.
Alone he fought; alone, to move
A world whose wars would never cease--
And all his blows were struck for love,
And all his fighting was for peace...
They tortured him with thorns and rods,
They hanged him on a frowning hill--
_And all the old and heartless gods
Are laughing still._

SUNDAY

It was Sunday--
Eleven in the morning; people were at church--
Prayers were in the making; God was near at hand--
Down the cramped and narrow streets of quiet Lawrence
Came the tramp of workers marching in their hundreds;
Marching in the morning, marching to the grave-yard,
Where, no longer fiery, underneath the grasses,
Callous and uncaring, lay their friend and sister.
In their hands they carried wreaths and drooping flowers,
Overhead their banners dipped and soared like eagles--

Aye, but eagles bleeding, stained with their own heart's-blood--
Red, but not for glory--red, with wounds and travail,
Red, the buoyant symbol of the blood of all the world...
So they bore their banners, singing toward the grave-yard,
So they marched and chanted, mingling tears and tributes,
So, with flowers, the dying went to deck the dead.

Within the churches people heard
The sound, and much concern was theirs--
God might not hear the Sacred Word--
God might not hear their prayers!

_Should such things be allowed these slaves--
To vex the Sabbath peace with Song,
To come with chants, like marching waves,
That proudly swept along..._

_Suppose God turned to these--and heard!
Suppose He listened unawares--
God might forget the Sacred Word,
God might forget their prayers!_

And so (oh, tragic irony)
The blue-clad Guardians of the Peace
Were sent to sweep them back--to see
The ribald song should cease;

To scatter those who came and vexed
God with their troubled cries and cares.
Quiet--so God might hear the text;
The sleek and unctuous prayers!

Up the rapt and singing streets of little Lawrence,
Came the stolid soldiers; and, behind the blue-coats,
Grinning and invisible, bearing unseen torches,
Rode red hordes of anger, sweeping all before them.
Lust and Evil joined them--Terror rode among them;
Fury fired its pistols; Madness stabbed and yelled...
Throu