A Workers' Poet.

Maoriland Worker, Volume 1, Issue 4, 15 December 1910, Page 6

A Workers' Poet.

(By E.F.) Between the years 1840-50 European workers were out for great reformsCharles Mackay put into delightful verse the aspirations of the majority of those workers. Although his poems were mainly written to aid the repeal of the Corn Laws, yet he built better than he knew.

Mackay as a poet, of course, cannot be classed, with Shakespeare, Milton and Shelley. Hβ is not a great poeti. Yet he has for the Worker a cup brimming over with Comradeship, Jby and Hope. On« cannot deal with his poetry as a whole, but his masterpiece, from a literary point of view, must not be paseed unnoticed. The "Seaking's Burial " has all the strength ot ballad poetry—vigorous, human and soul-reaching. The viking has become old. Death hovers around him. The sea-warrior oannot die on land. His galley is brought forth. Kinsmen harness him wfEh his armour. The kingly purple sways across his shoulders. Hβ grasps his trusty sword. For the last time he boards his ship. A huge fire is made on deck. The sails are spread. Away the craft speeds—her last voyage —and the Norseman reaches Vohalla through the fire or the wreck.

"If I cannot end my life In the bloody battle strife, Let mc die as I have lived— On the sea." No canting fear of Death here!

From Bouno to Parsons—singing his swan-song upon the scaffold at Chicago —this fearlessness has lasted till our day. And in the daye that yet shall be it will show itself again.

The " Cry of the People " tells of the anguish of a Worker's lot, the injustice he suffers, but gives us the hope for better days. How true is the following, even to-day!

" 'Tis hard to have no thought of human gladness, But one engrossing agony for bread To haunt us at our toil and in our bed."

" Voices from the Crowd" are the songs having the ring of the passionate heart-bursts of the Workers. The language of these poems is simple, plain English; no attempt is made to bedeck or adorn ; yet they ring out like the full blast of a trumpet in the dead of night, they burn with the radiance of the watch-fires on the hill-tops in Armada days ; there is, best of all, the sound of the distant tramp of the measured, footsteps of Labour's army in them. Their very titles are a call "To arms!" " CLEAR THE WAY." Men of thought! be up and stirring Night and day : Sow the seed—withdraw the curtain— Clear the way ! There's a fount about to stream, There's a light about to beam, There's a warmth about to glow. There's a flower about to blow ; There's a midnight blackness changing Into grey ; Men of thought and men of action Clear the way ! Mackay's belief of Truth overcoming Falsehood because Truth IS Truth is finely expressed in all the six stanzas to " British Freedom." The first reads : " We want no flag, no flaunting rag, For Liberty to fight; We want no blaze of murderous gods To struggle for the right. Our spears and swords are printed words, The mind our battle plain ; We've won such victories before, And so we will again." Shelley's Mask of Anarchy, " The Marseillaise," and Wm. Morris's " All for the Cause," makes the red blood leap through our veins. Mackay has the same magic in " The Three Preachers." " Standing still is childish folly, Going backward is a crime ; None should patiently endure Any ill that he can cure, ONWARD keep the march of time! Onward! while a thought remains To he conquered by the night; While oppression lifts a finger To affront us by his might, While an error clouds the reason Of the universal heart, Or a slave awaits his freedom, Action is the wise man's part." My copy of Mackay's poems is a second-band one. Some brother or sister has placed pansies (" That's for thoughts"—Shelley) at certain pages. The prettiest flower and the best of all i« at " The Good Time Coming," and others are at " Nail it Down," "What Might be Done," "Old Opinions—Rags and Tatters," "We are Wiser than we Know." The editor may print these songs another day in odd corners of " The Worker " —but we must have one verse now of the first of these : " There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: Wβ may not live to see the day, But Earth shall glisten in the ray Of the good time coming. Cannon balls may aid the truth, But thought's a weapon stronger; We'll win our battle by its aid— Wait a little longer."