THE stock-jobbers' madams dash In splendour thro' park and street. 'Tis a lightning of wheels that flash, 'Tis a thunder of high-stepping feet. Shrink aside, vile churl, for these princesses bold -- These creatures of jewels and ermine and gold -- As they loll by in insolent pride, Scarce deigning a glance of the eye, They scatter their mud stains far and wide On the humbler passer-by -- Some rhymester it may be, whose bitter pen Shall pay them their mud stains with interest again. And, meanwhile, in some fetid street Their spouse and provider sits -- A swindler fattening on lie and cheat, Sole fruit of his sordid wits -- Full fed and bloated, or wan and pale, And haunted with fears of an imminent gaol. When my lady of high degree Rolls by with her lackeys ablaze, It gladdens my heart, good madams, to see The disdain of you in her gaze. I love her little, but, matched with you, I could fall on my knees to a pride so true. Or when Lais rattles by In her vesture of visible shame, Poor child, I whisper, and who am I To call her dead life by its name? Sad tawdry splendours that, one sure day, Will spread swift pinions and flutter away! But with you, vile spawn of deceit, What need to be chary of ire? Get down, I say, on your useless feet, And cleanse them with honest mire. Down with you, 'tis time, ere your coaches be made The central block of a new barricade. Yet, perhaps, since in this poor life Things are double, each against each, Among you sometimes is the mother and wife With her darlings to cherish and teach, The gentle lady, tender and kind, With no shadow of evil on heart or mind. Ah, riddle of things! ah, great Perpetual struggle and war! The good which should be, inseparate, From the evil things that are -- How shall I, with purblind vision, arraign The marvellous measures of joy and pain? Roll by then, brave dames, roll by; You are part of a scheme, I trow. No more will I look with a covetous eye On your splendours of pomp and show; For I see in your gorgeous chariots the strife, The problem, the wonder, the satire, of life. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUNTAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 2. LOS CIGARILLOS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MA LADY'S LIPS AM LIKE DE HONEY (NEGRO LOVE SONG) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GIFT TO SING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |