Liberty Lyrics. ZIT L. S. BEVINGTON. LONIUi: PRINTED BWD PUBLISHED BY JAMES TOCHATTI, "L LIBERTI ) PBBBI. 1895. PRICE ONE PENNY, LIBEBTY: A JOURNAL OF ANARCHIST COMMUNISIW. EDITED IBY JL1LMES T()CH'AT'I' TIHE CONTEIJBUTC)RS TCI`CTUD E LOTUrSE;1ICHIEL, HAMI(), V ORS P. KROI'OTKIS, IElniC10 nMATA'18~r, EIE r7. CrLTEK, OZA RI AND 811 THE BEST \WRITERS AND THIWKERS LIr THE SOCIZAIIST MIOVE31 ENI'. Liberty Pamphlets. JUsirT'T nrlxsorn. 1Ci Vp~, FV"., Tprintccl (n troiicc p~aplcr, Pric~e ONE PEmNY. Jones' Boy: Dialoguies on Social Questions Retwe:~tn si ' Enfanlt 'Ierri\,le ' ain(( lhi. Fatther. HI\ " Sipckteshnve." An Anarchist on Anarchy, HY EL1SSIE RIICIIUS. The Ideal and Youth, r-; ETIXSjE IRECCUS. In Defence or Emma Coldmann and the Right of Expropriation. Hu Vi)LTAI161NIC 1E CLEYRZI. FII:s1' SEKIES. The VWhy I Anms: Wilp I Ain a Socialixt and an Atheist, bg Conracl Nnacwviar; WChv T iAmn n Soc-iltl IDtmocl~:t, hv G. RelrlnLrd Shsw; W'Zi T Aln an Indivic:7lalist Aia~rchlist, by J. Arnmsden. SECurNjr SEnRF:S. The \Nhy I Ams: Why I Am a Communist, hy William Jfolris; TWhp I A1? czn Expropriatiorlist, buv TL S, Rcvilngton. VVIrs, BJE PUBZISHED SnorTLY. The \Nhy I Ams: WhS I Am an Annlrchjet-Socislifit, by Errico M3alatesta~; 'Thy I Ant an Advocatte of Physical Elorce, by G. Lawprsnce; 'Chy Z Am;-1 SociRalist. and at Coiipferator in Protdic~ti' ol:, 1~, 10. T. C11~;i g. LIBERTY LY RICS. The End of the \Norld. Comrsdes i the eimd of the world's at haLn?! Ouir round earth planet? Ah, no; The pinnet shall roll, and the great sun stand, Tile beautiful sea-waves hrertb on the strand, The flowers and fruits shall ~crver the landBut the World snd its ills shnll go. Wherever has rested the golden smirch White livers Drepare to hie; At sign from the gold god's tottering perch See, loth and lingering far in the lurch, Comes Mammon's black hireling, tile politic ChurcB, Canting the Socialist cry. Hear how its foolish begin to sjay, In fear of the fined rout" The night grows old, and the dread new d~ay Reaires that we follow the People's way; aive us yvour oil, ye wise, we pray, For our litnps are all flickering out." The lirst time passed, and he died alone, And the deaf world held on its way; End priest and ruler the tares have sown, Mingled with wheat they have rampant grown, But the Harvester knows his own--his own; And in judgment he comes to-day. And 'IHouses shall fall, built on golden sand; And only the Truth be dear; The rock-bui~lt dwellings of fa~ith shall stand, The glad, free people shall joy' 1nte ad And heart t~rusi hert~ e'en as hrtnd helps hind, For the end of tlie WCrld is here. 4 Looking Dawnwards. 0 the sacred generations That have lived, and failed, and died! And for our sakes-ours-the freed ones, Found their liberties denied! Oh, the helpless half-barbarians That yet felt the iron sway, Ere they knew it or could l:)ve it As great Nature's life-ward way! Shall I take my rights less bravely For the great ache in my heart, When I think how these fought for me Who in victory had no part?How they trampled self and senses; How they forged their own restraints; How they failed-defamed-as "sinners;" How they failed-athirst-as "saints." How they felt a "Right," yet knew not Of the eternal How and Why; And so built a church around them And a god-throne in the sky. Oh, ye tortured generations! Joy, with shame; or fame, with woe; This the only choice allowed you Just that we in you might growJust that we might win equipment, Title-privilege-to be; Ay, eternal life-adjustment And the right to liberty. Through the tarnish on the glory Of the victor's battle plain, When the famine followed after, And the the widows wept in vain; Through the later, meaner horrors Of the subtle sins of trade And the rents in human nature That mere luxury has made; I-the heir of conscience in me, And that un-willed sympathy That cuts all the bands about me And for ever seto me free. Frcte to live and have my baing-- Free to c-hoose or deprecate; Free to keep law or to mend it, Free to recogniue my mate. Free, by all consent around me; Free by all consent wit~hin j Free froln huulaI rule snd precept; Free from hurnsn hurt and sin, Verg gently will I take it, Very carefnl will 1 be, TLeat the cirucified and wistful Miss their chuuce, ist ucilt, through me. Ah i so Ipiinfully, so slowly, Has the whole truth loomed in sight Anil the: slpirit oyened meek-ly In this nast day's soltenn ligllt. All the sorry yowurP of liadnesa 'lhttt have cofftered lieu for truth; All the darkeuilrs of c~ouusel, All tile snlug nisgnic cs of South, Thitt hatve clocked alnd nlart\~red maiens, 'Ihzat have! aiven stoltes for bread; Tlirt hatve bouutd tire wife in wedluck, IMade for her tile hatrlot's Led; Aud the Cz;al of all the lR\ssiars, Alld the cltevrr tPolw cf clutme, Ay, alld I'rcolr Mrs CGrundyv In Jotin BIJullion's giidted home! l'hcest are all ulpon tlitir trial, 'Ihesr: are fortedollled eoterv ole; F'cr the da vll beg~ins to ligh't them And tlhty ca~nuot Lclar the sun. 'Tis tile oelry Lay of Judglnc~nlt 'Tis the proof-tide of thc~ race! "l'is the conmiag ot tbte sasioura! ' Tis the triumph-tilne of grace! Through the bride-night of the soc~ial 'Iolls the knell of the dteyraved; IDied the human generations, And yet we -the few--are saved, And the last shall soon be foremost, And the foremost shall be lest; Fur the' Letter's reign is over And the Syirit waxes fast, 6 The Secret of the Bees. Bow have you managed it? bright busy bee! You are all of you useful, yet each of you free. What man only talks of, the busy bee does; Shares food, and keeps order, with no waste of buzz. No cell that's too narrow, no squandering of wax, No damage to pay, and no rent, and no tax. No drones kept in honey to look on and prate, No property tyrants, no big-wigs of State. Free access to flowers, free use of all wings; And when bee-life is threatened, then free use of stings. No fighting for glory, no fighting for pelf; Each thrust at the risk of each soldier himself. Comes over much plenty one summer, you'll see A lull and a leisure for each busy bee. No over-work, under-work, glut of the spoil; No hunger for any, no purposeless toil. Economy, Liberty, Order, and Wealth!Say, busy bee, how you reached Social Health? (Answer.) Say rather, why not? It is easier so; We have all the world open to come and to g,. We haven't got masters, we haven't got mnony, We've nothing to hinder the gathering of honey. The sun and the air and the sweet summer flowers Attract to spontaneous use of our powers. Our work is all natural-nothing but play, For wings and probocis can go their own way. We find it convenient to live in one nest, None hindering other from doing her best. We haven't a Press, so we haven't got lies, And it's worth no one's while to throw dust in our eyes. We haven't among us a single pretence, And we got our good habits through sheer Common-Sense. 7 Revolution. Ah, yes! You must meet it, and brave it; Too laggard-too purblind to save it; Who recks of your doubting and fearing Phrase-bound " Evolution?" Do you not hear the sea sounding it? Do you not feel the fates founding it? Do you not know it for nearing? Its name-Revolution. What! stem it, and stay it, aud spare it? Or will you defy it, and dare it? Then this way or that you must change you For swift restitution, Do you not see men deserving it? Do you not hear women nerving it? Down with old Mammon! and range you To aid Revolution! The last hour has struck of our waiting, The last of your bloodless debating, The wild-fire of spirit is speeding Us on to solution. Do you not thrill at the uttering? Do you not breathe the breeze fluttering Round the brave flag of our pleading? The world's Revolution! The Most Beautiful Thing. The most beautiful thing around or above Is Love, true Love: The beautiful thing can more beautiful be If its life be free. Bind the most beautiful thing there is, And the serpents hiss; Free from its fetters the beautiful thing, And the angels sing. 8 Bought with a Price. Bp, a price! i?hat yric~e? Ye saved ones of fhese later ages, Ye few who have lenrnt to be free, anil have true things to tell 1 The! price of the yest generattions of hlind men and sages Who lived for you. died for you, sufftered, and went down to hell And never came bacli i S;Lrage sinners, the conquered, despirid; Crude syokesmeu of chiaos they sprnug from, all lusty with dew-tiiie; Then, sing)y, mesaiahs blood-sweatlmg for order and beauty; In the~ir dsy all failures; all martvru for us of the new tilne, Ag, bought witlh a price i my sisters rtnd brothers, this moment We live, an 1 kuow how, aucd kiiow wlip, ann haive nothing to fear; PWe are debtors, dtear couradedd i Oh, think of the Catlvaries sufflered; Hands round: true to trus;t: " Milleniuni " is bound to sppenr. 'Tis our generation must figilt the last figlht against Wsrfare, Must hiir thd god 1Saiiilni i in deipths of oblivionls sea., Unmnsk and drive frum us all tvlranncoad Iomers of Dairkness And make tht: swe~et plaiitt a Hoine of IHuianity--free. " Dreamers?" " Dreazmere?'' Ah, no! else he w;Ls a dresmer, Our crucided brothter of long, loiig agt,; Arrested, snd jeered at; " tediticous;" ' blasyhemer;" And legally slain, lest tht: Ieoyit should k~now Offence against privileaed, orthodou " order," Thnt stirring of crcowc-l by the straight word and true; No wonder resptertable IDives condttmied himn, And politic Romaii, and clericatl Jew. Relnenber the,zgonised dry of desertion ILest ]Iltlly the whole had~ been suflfered in vain; Ah! mould he could know of this tardp awakening Uf Pdoylea at la,st, as the message grows plain. That ' Kinrdom " is coming, on earth as ' within you," The reign of sweet peace, and goodwill amongst men; 'Tis suffering violence? Pes, in the taking; Yet, taken, there shall not be fighting again. Dear comrades, hold ~on, 'mid reproach and derision, To rid the old world of its thrlzldom and woe; And still in the pauses of conflict remember Thnt. I(ne folkl, 0u1 (:olllrrce of 10115, long ago. 9 In Memoriam. Mad, as the world calls mad, See Anarchy's few; Fighting the False and the Bad In all that they do; Forcing a way for the Glad, The Pure, and the True. Bolder and clearer it grows-- The Anarchist task; Liberty's plausible foes To assail and unmask; Handing the torch as it glows To all who may ask. Great! oh, exceedingly great, The Anarchists' claim! Fusing the falsehood of State In unquenchable flame; Breaking the fetters of fate In Humanity's name. Breathing with fiery breath On the mammonite crew; Fearless, in splendor of faith, Of the worst they can do; Blessed, in life and in death, O beneficent few! Love's Breadth. Love's uttermost knows neither depth nor height But soars or stoops unwittingly, for stress Of mere dear love, importunate to bless And see its treasure crown6d in its sight. Throws o'er each fleck some mantle of fine right Woven of love's transforming tenderness, Woos to the waking charms it doth but guess, Creates, and frees, and leads into the light. O little maid! with all your shining hair And bosom full of faith and kindliest trust, So would I have you love your love, my fair, With woman's strength of mercy, gently just; Wide, wide as heaven teach vour heart to be, Love with love's breadth, and hold through setting free. Peace on 1Earth. Peace on our earth i Men reconciled 'Io Law that bids them be; O holy freedom! final faith! O sa<:red cert~aintv i I solnetimes thinlz the road to it TLies through IGeth~semane. And yet the young are with us too, Bold from the very first; Dear lade and maidens full of wil\ 'rhe golden cage to burst; Alert to note the living springs That slake the whole world's thirst. The very goal we touch at last, The haveu: of the free; Ah, comradesl you wgo utiderstand, Sing in your heart with me" Thorx Death, where nuw thy poisoned sting? WVhere, Grave thy victory 'r " ' Tis Daring \Nins the Day. Are you colr3, or ar: cyou lukewarm You rnay freely have gour say; When we've time we'll read your musings, Rut 'tis dalrioa wins the day. 411, the Conlmune's own are fierr, VWhile the business heads are cool, And:Dame Nature hands her lighteeuing To the best chil(X in her schoolTo the grown child full of mercies That not yet have had their fting; To the man that ].oves his fellows, And will brook no bullying. 8isters! brothers! wase fronr slumber, Speed the great Cause on its way; aive your lives and dare your utmost, For 'tis: caring winlb thB day fll Not in Ipetty late aiic eiivv, Nor rtevenge grown meiln and sour: ILet the world see noble justice Arming all your strokes of power. Ail the world is thrall to falsehood That we rise to sweep away, H'olding high Truith's own brave banner, E'or 'tis daring~ wills the daS. If the \Norld went Right, Oh i Oh the delight of beholding delight i The thing that should be if the world went rightlScope for all fitness and merriest might, And oh, the dolour of looking on pain, Yoor heart that exhausts its life in vain, Brave yowers all benf that Sour rules restrain. If the morid ntent right t'were a world of bliss: IE everyone dealt with the task- that's his, No wholesomer, sunnier world than this, Let your bird out of his cage, nor fear; And if he's a Fnllfinch, as mine: is here, You'll laugh at his comic, diminutive c~heer: Aye i and what's more, if E is food be there, He'll go back to prison without your care - If Sou're fair to him then to you he's fair, Not that he mehns it--it's natural, quite; All the live things are so sure to go right If you trust them enough, and enjoy their delight. Freedom I You'll rtee what a, man can be WVhen his fellows are happy, as happy as he, TWhen the whole wide world is at work and free i When the follies are laid which have led to the atrit'e And the envy with which the sad earth is rife Shiall yicld to t~ht Natural Ordur of' Life i 12 In and Out of Church. Dogma-dealer, talking treason, Spurning truth, perverting reason In and out of folly's season Year by yearOh, a plague on all the twaddle In your hum drum niddle-noddle, Mammon's law-paid molly-coddle Limp with fear. Is there " sin" in worldly leaven? Yet there's not one day in seven When you fail to sell your gammon All for pelf; "Heaven to let "-to paying lodger; Ah, you canting devil-dodger, Damn not us who spurn your Mammon, Damn yourself! If I've done some bad behaving, And I don't deserve the saving, Then 'tis honour bids the braving Of my dues; Pilot souls to your sky places Who are full of Sunday graces, And with sweat from poor men's faces Pay for pews. Call the purse-proud from their blisses, Call the fashionable misses From " advisers' " holy kisses, Call, and call; Call the people's sly mind-shapers, Call the kings of daily papers Cutting "law and order" capers One and all. Here's my Lord Archbishop, mind you, Paid to gorge himself, and blind you, Till your very self can't find you Anywhere; Simple Jesus! See the old 'un! Why, his dinner-plates are golden! May the sight our hearts embolden In our prayer. Ic3 All, dismiss thlem, \-itb a " blessing;'' All intoning a~nd confessiug; Never more our souls ~distressing mWith their cant! Help to silence priestly mumlle, Help the Mammon-templea tumble, E'reedom's banner o'er the jumble Firm to plant. Come, dear toilers, stazined and weary, Come and help the world grow cheery, Come from out your prison dreary Built by greed; You who labonr heavy-laden, Slaving mother, trampled maiden, Ever preached to, ever preyed on, In your need; Let gour winters grow no colder, Rise at last and dare be bolder, Setting shoulder firm to shoulder For a thrust! Yokes be eased, and burdens lighter, ~A the great Hope warms the fighter, And the broad New Day grows brighter And more just. 'The Spider and the Bee. (A Tale for the Times.) Eie had closed his volume of theorie; IHe rose from his restful reverie" The world must be saved by sympathie." He wandered Forth in the summery air Not much he knew of the stress of care End nothing at all of the thing-Despair. Pain was " pain," and four letters long; And '' force " five letters and always wrong; " Sympathy " said so 'fwixt song and song. 14 In afrose-bush a spider's net spied he, So neat, so clever, so orderlie; And, lo! in its meshes a honey-bee. The spider was large and her web was tough; She watched till the bee had struggled enough Before it was worth her while to be rough. But a hole in her institution, you see, Must never be made by struggles of bee; Oh, preposterous thought! Oh, catastrophe! So she rushed, and she clutched, and she bit, and she wove, As spiders will weave whose ancestors throve: And vainly the bee in its agony strove. And be who stood by felt his sympathie Enlisted for spider, enlisted for bee" I wish you may both-survive (?)" said he. O grand old Nature! who gives reward, And honey to busy bees doth afford, And honey and bee to the spider's hoard. Oh, poor bee! buzzing in vain, in vain, I sympathise, too, in your arduous strain! May bees of the future escape such pain! To free you by Force were a serious wrong, For spiders have lived in that way so long They "work" at their nets, so neat, so strong. Besides, Coercion!-so wicked, you see!To compel that fat spider to set you free Were " in principle " evil, for you and for me. Be sure I am sorry; perhaps some day Spiders will cease to subsist on prey, Or honey-bees fly no more in their way. So the sun went down, and the spider fed On the agonised honey bee not yet dead; And sympathy sighed, and went home to bed. What of the tale? Well, it isn't exact; Yet it hints at an ugly and pitiful fact. "Philosophy" severing language from fact-- Sympathy's name is a shibboleth spoken; Dreams of web.spinners be speedily broken!-- This story one tiny superfluous token. I5 Dinne r. Now this is very serious, and should be anderatood-- Here is a moral heing that is infiluenced by food i For everything I like the taste of helps me to Ee good. Now, mind you, 'tis of me I speak; r am but a beginner; I: won't profess to dictsate to your old and hoary sinner; For all I Izlow or care his soul may be the worse for dinner. Rut mine is not, ann--Ribbon Blue!--'tis not the worse for wine; 1 help my soul with alcohol, yes, every time I dine; Again I must affilrm, the soul I speak of, it is mine. L lost some worlds to save it, and the toughest world to lose Was just that woridly-holy one that instituted " blues;" '' RibbolS,)" or L' devils," all the same, its precepts I refuse. Perhaps mine is a tenth-rate soul, not worth the while to save; Perhaps a quite incorrigible soul that can't behave; But it is mine, and I shall have to wear it to my grave. I do not mind ~its company; though rougb, 'tis not untrue; 'Twill bear its pack of care, and then another pack for you; And if if you give it dinner, yet a further pack or two. D~ame Nature said when I was born-"Ihat child shall be my own; I'11 whip and punish, scold and flrighten her till she is grown; And than I'11 share my jokes with her, and watch her run alone." But at the christening were present sponsors very prim; Miss S. P. G-., demure and pious, John Bull looking grim, And Mrs. Grundy--can't you see her P--blann, and sly, and trim. Dame Nature just looked on, and didn't mind their whispering; She knew whom I belonged to, poor mis-christened little thing i She meant despite them all, you see, that L should have my dling. She got into the nursemaid's wrist, and cuffed me black and blue; And called me " Satan's ugly child," and why I never knew; That was her way of driving out the bounce from what I do. She got into some pastors next, and made them small and spiteful; She got into the Sunday tales, and rules of what is rightful, And made them seem all " cook'd " and queer, and not a bit delightful. dnd when I came of age she dressed me up to play a part, And off we went to call on Mrs. arundp, spruce and smart; And when we left, she looked at me i and chuckled from her heart. 1C> And. maln tlhings came ltftter that--amazelnent, wonder, hope; And fear and courage, hate and love, and manacles and scope; And all the world passed in and through, from demagogue to pope. And each thing had its tug, to see if it could break the spell That good Dame Nature laid upon my heart, and brain as well; Ti'ey wrung their wounded fingers as they went, and muttered "Bell i' A dunce in all things worldly and in all things " proper " too, I joyed and sorrowed, on and on, with more or lejs ado; Until at last the 8un lit up a certainty or two. And one of them mate fhis:Pour 8ou1 won't be the worse for dinner If meanwhile you remember you're a tentative beginner On Nature's new-mown plap-ground, with survival to the winner. No physic for the glee of these-who feel with social nertes; No fences, right or left, for those-whose purpose neter ssp~rnes; Pour famished volunteer for Right to dine as he deserves. Fair play on that fair~pla.Vlground, then, for all brave souls and true, I3Eoiat living Life's red flag for goal, while coats and ribbons blue File off, to that inspiring tune--" We've got no norl; to do." 11 i~~~: C""ararr-ur: j.J; Toctti,rr 'k' Oi~viPLrL T~irier, Cbirslrk.