To Edwin Markham

To Edwin Markham.
233.5

Flash the heart’s gloom aflame with Freedom’s fire
Thrill the chained frame of labor with desire
For sweet, sweet liberty.

Lift downcast eyes toward the morning light,
Rouse the slave mind to daring dreams of right,
The Dawn’s reality.

Sing, lost in passion for the years to be,
The sweeping song of World Democracy,
The song of liberty.

Thou art the master poet of the hour.
While others cringe before the tyrant, Power,
Thou standest fearlessly erect-a Man.
-R. W. Borough.