"Rich stuffs our looms weave for fair ladies' wear." So read the caption in the daily press; Then followed fabrics in which women dress, Whose costly garments win a beggar's stare. Our looms weave? No! but men and women, where Looms roar Niagara-like, whose strain and stress Dull ears and eyes and soul, -- a weariness Rare pleasure cannot lift or night repair. Our looms weave? No! but men become machines, Which wages, dropping scanty oil, supply. The helps mind conjured here destroy the mind; For flesh and soul are fed to make sateens, While spindles, shuttles, faster, faster, fly, The brutish engine like all tyrants blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH FOR THE LOSS OF GRILDRIG by ALEXANDER POPE JUDITH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE TRIUMPHS OF THY CONQUERING POWER by WILLIAM HILEY BATHURST CHINESE PICTURE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN WE ARE CHILDREN by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN JEHANE by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |