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WHILE the hills about the valley form a sort o' fort to-day, Yet, like the ancient Chinese Wall, they seem to melt away Before the great inventions being brought to light of late That reckon with creation, and swing a massive gate. The rich are growing richer; the poor may poorer get Till the cry, extermination, has the nations soundly swept Of all the open ulcers, that stain the path we tread Through "squeezing" honest sons of toil, who strive to earn their bread. Spasmodic come the troubles the prophecies describe, And between contending forces is a cavern deep and wide; On one hand Capital arrayed, with all its gold and show, While Labor on the other hand is struggling, as we know; Belshazzar's time repeated; the writings on the wall Are being read and have been read--the rich, the poor, and all May look upon realities, in ignominious shame To the elite of all the earth, who scoff at hunger's train; The roadbed through the cities, where the rivers used to flow, Will lead the marching forces, past the walls of Jericho, And banks may serve as fortresses of those who kill to live, As all must pass the meshes of the equalizing sieve. The multimillionaires and all will know one common bed; The jewels will have vanished, the crowns upon the head Will melt away, in fervent heat, such anger in that day When hearts of men with fear will quake and all may pass away. |