Читать книгу Songs of the Army of the Night - Francis William Lauderdale Adams - Страница 8

“ENGLAND.”
IN THE CAMP.

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This is a leader’s tent. “Who gathers here?”

Enter and see and listen. On the ground

Men sit or stand, enter or disappear,

Dark faces and deep voices all around.

One answers you. “You ask who gathers here?

Companions! Generals we have none, nor chief.

What need is there? The plan is all so clear—

The future’s hope, the present’s grim relief!

“Food for us all, and clothes, and roofs come first.

The means to gain them? This, our leaguered band!

The hatred of the robber rich accursed

Keeps foes together, makes fools understand.

“Beyond the present’s faith, the future’s hope

Points to the dawning hour when all shall be

But one. The man condemned shall fit the rope

Around the hangman’s neck, and both be free!

“The sun then rises on a happier land

Where Wealth and Labour sound but as one word.

We drill, we train, we arm our leaguered band.

What is there more to tell you have not heard?”

This is a leader’s tent. They gather here,

Resolute, stern, menacing. On the ground

They sit or stand, enter or disappear,

Dark faces and deep voices all around.

Songs of the Army of the Night

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