Oh, I know the night is falling
On the long day of the "Trust,"
And I hear the people calling
For a leader who is just.
He shall come and he shall lead them
To the glory of the light,
They shall know that God has freed them
From the tyranny of Might.
Oh, I know when comes the master,
He will make us understand
That the world's supreme disaster
Is monopoly of land.
Human wrongs could all be righted,
Joy could sit beside each hearth,
If the minds of men united
In demanding back the earth.
Yes, I hear the people's voices,
Growing stronger as they call,
And my hopeful heart rejoices
At the meaning of it all.
For the cry is from all classes,
Save the plutocrats of greed,
And this mingling of the masses
Means a force the world must heed.
Not for one, but for the many,
Is the richness of the soil.
God reserved no rights for any,
Save the willing sons of toil.
Hear, ye weary shop repiner;
Hear, ye homeless slave of rent;
Hear, ye bowed and pallid miner;
For man's use the earth was meant.
Let your voices swell the chorus
That insists upon our claim.
We can sweep all things before us,
If we focus on this aim.
Put away the bun and sabre--
For in thought lies greater might.
Know the Earth belongs to Labor--
And let Labor claim its right.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Colored American Magazine October 1902, p.417-418.
[Courtesy of The New York American, 1902, by W.R. Hearst.]
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