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ents of speech too large for us, {79b} There are strange forest-trees. Far up, their roots Spread from the central trunk, and settle down Deep in the life-fed earth, seventy feet below. In the past days here grew another tree, On whose high fork the parasitic seed Fell and sprang up, and, finding life and strength In the disease, decrepitude and death Of that it fed on, utterly consumed it, And stands the monument of Nature's crime! So Labour with his parasites, the two Great swollen robbers, Land and Capital, Stands to the gaze of men but as a heap Of rotted dust whose only use must be To rich the roots of the proud stem that killed it! {80} AUSTRALIA. I see a land of desperate droughts and floods: I see a land where need keeps spreading round, And all but giants perish in the stress: I see a land where more, and more, and more The demons, Earth and Wealth, grow bloat and strong. I see a land that lies a helpless prey To wealthy cliques and gamblers and their slaves, The huckster politicians: a poor land That less and less can make her heart-wish law. Yea, but I see a land where some few brave Raise clear eyes to the Struggle that must come, Reaching firm hands to draw the doubters in, Preaching the gospel: "Drill and drill and drill!" Yea, but I see a land where best of all The hope of victory burns strong and bright! ART. "Yes, let Art go, if it must be That with it men must starve-- If Music, Painting, Poetry Spring from the wasted hearth!" Yes, let Art go, till once again Through fearless heads and hands The toil of millions and the pain Be passed from out the lands: Till from the few their plunder falls To those who've toiled and earned But misery's hopeless intervals From those who've robbed and spurned. Yes, let Art go, without a fear, Like autumn flowers we burn, For, with her reawakening year, Be sure she will return!-- Return, but greater, nobler yet Because her laurel crown With dew and not with blood is wet, And as our queen sit down! "HENRY GEORGE." (_Melbourne_.) I came to buy a book. It was a shop Down in a narrow quiet street, and here They kept, I knew, these socialistic books. I entered. All was bare, but clean and neat. The shelves were ranged wit
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