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On Opression!
On Opression!
Look at 'em, blood from their eyne flows
a pale smile-like a coruscate on their visage.
Their throats swelled in dinges and songs!
Their life they despise-come oh death!
Take 'em-free 'em from the prison of life
Take 'em death, Oh dulcet dread!
What is happiness? Why are they smiling?
Perhaps their hearts are in ecstasy!
What is sadness? Why are they sobbing?
Perhaps their hearts are scythed a-twain!
What is this gush of emotions flowing;
of joy and sorrow, of songs and dinges?
Perhaps gushing from the abyss of hate!
Why have the graves filled the gardens?
Perhaps gardens are potent of the joy past old
and graves the prevailing sorrow!
Why are the children sobbing?
perhaps aware their fathers are slayed!
Why do brides in corners lie?
Perhaps their love is never to come!
Why do the oceans seem a fathom higher?
Perhaps-a fathom of blood!
Why are the leaves rustling turbulently?
Perhaps they can, but rustle in pain!
Why is the pigeon not flying high?
Perhaps the dale is a big cage!-Behold!
