gh the wild and bleeding streets of shuddering Lawrence,
Raged the heedless panic, hour-long and bitter.
Passion tore and trampled; men once mild and peaceful,
Fought with savage hatred in the name of Law and Order.
And, below the outcry, like the sea beneath the breakers,
Mingling with the anguish, rolled the solemn organ...

Eleven in the morning--people were at church--
Prayers were in the making--God was near at hand--
It was Sunday!

STRIKERS

In the mud and scum of things,
Underneath the whole world's blot,
Something, they tell us, always sings--
_Why do we hear it not?_

In the heart of things unclean,
Somewhere, in the furious fight,
The face of God is plainly seen--
_What has destroyed our sight?_

Yet have we heard enough to feel,
Yet have we seen enough to know
Who bound us to the awful wheel,
Whose hands have brought us low.

And we shall cry out till the wind
Roars in their ears the thing to come--
_Yea, though they made us deaf and blind,
Nothing shall keep us dumb!_

IN THE SUBWAY

Chaos is tamed and ordered as we ride;
The rock is rent, the darkness flung aside
And all the horrors of the deep defied.

A coil of wires, a throb, a sudden spark--
And on a screaming meteor we embark
That hurls us past the cold and breathless dark.

The centuries disclose their secret graves--
Riding in splendor through a world of waves
The ancient elements become our slaves.

Uncanny fancies whisper to and fro;
Terror and Night surround us here below,
And through the house of Death we come and go...

And here, oh wildest glimpse of all, I see
The score of men and women facing me
Reading their papers calmly, leisurely.

BATTLE-CRIES

Yes, Jim hez gone--ye didn't know?
He's fightin' at the front.
It's him as bears 'his country's hopes'.
An' me as bears the brunt.

Wen war bruk out Jim 'lowed he'd go--
He allus loved a scrap--
Ye see, the home warn't jest the place
Fer sech a lively chap.

O' course, the work seems ruther hard;
The kids is ruther small--
It ain't that I am sore at Jim,
I envy him--that's all.

He doesn't know what he's about
An' cares still less, does Jim...
With all his loose an' roarin' ways
I wisht that I was him.

It makes him glad an' drunken-like
That music an' the smoke;
An' w'en they shout, th