(_After reading "Outcast London" by the Daily Chronicle's Special
Commissioner at the East End._)
Divines inform us that the Primal Curse
On poor humanity was Compulsory Work;
But Civilisation has devised a worse,
Which even Christian effort seems to shirk.
The Worker's woes love may assuage. Ah, yes!
But what shall help Compulsory Worklessness?
Not Faith--Hope--Charity even! All the Graces
Are helpless, without Wisdom in high places.
Though liberal alms relieve the kindly soul,
You can't cure destitution by a dole.
No, these are days when men must dare to try
What a Duke calls--ARGYLL the high-and-dry--
"The Unseen Foundations of Society";
And not, like wealthy big-wigs, be content
With smart attacks on "Theories of Rent."
Most theories of rent we know, the fact is
What we have doubts about, Duke, is--the practice!
When Rent in Power's hands becomes a rack
To torture Toil, bold wisdom will hark back
To the beginnings and the bases; ask
_What_ hides beneath that Economic mask
Which smiles unmoved by Sorrow's strain and stress
On half-starved Work and whole-starved Worklessness!
* * * * *