Poem: ‘Put in the Sickles’
Excerpt from Swinburne’s ‘Messidor’
Now the kings grow lean as they sit,
The people grow strong to stand;
The men they trod on and spat,
The dumb, dread people that sat
As corpses cast in a pit
Rise up with God on their hand,
And thrones are hurled in a heap.
And strong men, sons of the land
Put in the sickles and reap!
The dumb, dread people that sat
All night without screen for the night,
All day without food for the day,
They shall not give their harvest away,
They shall eat of the fruit and wax fat,
They shall see the desire of their sight,
Though the ways of the seasons be steep,
They shall climb with face to the light,
Put in the sickles and reap.