Poor People's Christmas

Hakk ! the Christmas bells ring round !
Many light hearts with joy abound !
They come and go upon the wind,
" Peace and goodwill to all mankind ! "

Where bleared faces of mean houses
Lean as if to touch each other,
Where idle, ugly vice carouses,
And the brown fogs choke and smother,
In a room confined, dun, damp,
Sits a woman scantly clad,
Sewing by a feeble lamp
Some lovely raiment deftly made,
Rich apparel to be worn
In splendid halls by laughing wealth,
Whose pale sister here forlorn
Leaves in it all her youth and health —
Ah ! I wonder, can it bless.
Such living lining to a dress? . . .
Take the lovely raiment off!
Hell hath given it with a scoff!
For she must toil ere daydawn dim,
Long after winter suns have set,
And even so, the Hunger grim
Slow feeds on lives she fights for yet —
Three tattered little ones who play
Faint-hearted on the mouldy floor :
She fought for other two ; but they
Have gone where want can hurt no more.

Vile fumes, with subtle poison-breath.
That fouls the throat, killed one young child :
Roofs bulge in this abode of death.
Walls totter and tumble, damp-defiled ;
While on the too scant space intrude
Rats, hustling the young human brood.
A mean bed, table, broken chair,
Furnish the degraded room ;
A print, some delf, one flower fair,
Are fain to mitigate the gloom.
Bitter winter wind shrilled through
Rotten door and window when it blew.

She, working early, working late,
Breathes no impatient word nor wail :
Her heavy task may ne'er abate.
Though eyesight fade and strength may fail.

Her husband, long through accident
Disabled, might no more endure
To watch her, burden-bowed and bent,
The wife, whom these dark dens immure,
Whom no longing love may cure.
Nor help, though she be bruised and rent.
Confused, heartbroken, he will hide
His eyes for ever under tide
Of deeply, darkly rolling Thames,
That quenches hottest human flames.

Merry Christmas bells ring round !
Many light hearts with joy abound ;
They come and go upon the wind,
" Peace and goodwill to all mankind ! "

Merry Christmas chimes rang round,
When he sought the river's bank,
Rang over him the while he drowned.
And in the depths a third time sank.
While laughing youth's swift-flying feet
To music danced in yonder street.
And in gay halls glad masquers meet.

Now the flickering lamplights float
Idly over corpse and boat ;
From tower and temple London frowns
On all this ruin of her sons ;
On her huge dome the cross of gold
Gleams in winter starlight cold ;
Nor storied old-world obelisk,
Nor the illumined horal disk
High orbed on stately Westminster,
Where the Parliaments confer,
Take any heed of the black spot
That doth the silver moonlight blot,
A human shape unhearing hours,
Pealed now from modern, ancient towers,
That dark on turbid water ridges
Rocks in reflected flame from bridges
Where steam-lit trains, with living freight,
Going to glad homes elate,
Near ships laden with merchandise.
Spice, or silk of gorgeous dyes,
Where men from far realms of sunrise
Wait, forgetting care and sorrow,
In hope to greet dear friends to-morrow,
While their paddle-wheel foams over
The swaying corse, a senseless rover.

He turned from life, but left some words
Dyed in the anguish of his soul ;
Deep anguish the brief page records.
Before dull waters o'er him roll.

" Upon the bed, or broken chair,
I sit and brood in my despair, —
Those Christmas bells ! it is two years
Since our sweet little boy went home ;
I see him now through blinding tears,
The snowflakes melting on him, come,
Delighted, babbling of the joys
Behind a lighted window-pane —
Firs taper-lit, festooned with toys,
Sweets, trinkets, woolly lamb, doll, train —
For he had peeped in from the flags,
Where the lustrous hall discloses
To the boy in faded rags
Happy children, pink like roses,
Playful, laughter-loving posies.
Clustered flowers with coloured dresses ;
One pretty girl had such long tresses !
And then, the feast in all its pride !
Our cold, wan child stood eager-eyed,
Until some menial waved aside —
Another little waif stood far :
On his thin face he wore a scar ;
Half naked ; matted ringlets curled ;
He had no friend in all the world.
He peers in where these wonders are ;

O'er him wavers the snowstar, ?' Ghostly in the yellow gleam From the mansion's window-beam.

Willie took him by the hand :
' Won't you with me nearer stand ? '
He entered, shaking off the snow.
Shone for us, laughing, our sunshine,
Exhilarating hearts like wine ;
The dear glad face was all aglow,
Though mostly pale from want, like mine.
Then Mary took his jacket off,
Put the small torn boots to dry,
And we made little of the cough
That on our hearts weighed heavily.
A Christmas treat with cakes and tea
We gave our bairns ; the fare was rough ;
Yet this poor Yule-meal by the fire
We all enjoyed, a lordly feast !
She rested from long toils that tire,
And my small wage the store increased ;
I got a little bit of green
To try and brighten up the scene.
But now, skilled craftsman I, unused
To ruder labour, weights must lift,
That overstrain my strength abused ;
Famine else will give short shrift !
So to this impotence I drift !
At times my brain seems all confused —
To watch my Mary's failing eyes,
And youth consumed with too much toil,
While patient at her task she dies !
I, pinioned, helpless, may not foil
Slow deaths that round my dear ones coil !
Over a new dress sits she bowed? —
I thought it was her own white shroud ; —
Our wee Willie, like a weed.
Thrown into a nameless grave —
I am but one more mouth to feed !
They starve here, and I cannot save . . .
I am but one more mouth to feed ! . . .
We could not even put a stone,
To show where Willie lies alone !
When I left home, my love would write
That, ere our Willie went to bed,
He, wishing fether a good-night,
Kissed the written words, she said,
Ere softly slept the curly head.
Ah ! and now the boy is gone !—
We could not even put a stone !

" O Christmas bells, ye chime to jeer
Poor folk shut in with mortal fear !
' Peace and goodwill to all mankind ! '
— Save those whom want and rich men grind —
Art, Science, Banquet, Church, and Revel
Westward feed sense, heart and mind ;
Down East, the unshared rule of the devil !
Long have I sought ; I cannot find
God who delivers men from evil ! . . .

{Bells peal.) "... Well loved those chimes
In happier times. . . .
Once more we have our cheerful home,
Around the window roses blow ;
I see my Mary fair as foam,
Blithely singing, come and go.
While rosed with health the children roam. . .
Now we are ground 'twixt two millstones —
The man that wrings the murderous rent.
Yet shelters not the naked bones
Cooped in his plague-fraught tenement, —
And vampires who suck sleek content
From human anguish, tears, and groans,
Clutch the fruit of our life's toil.
And batten upon the unholy spoil.
Throwing a wage-scrap back for fuel.
Lest man- mills stop the labour cruel.
And cease with Death unequal duel.
Shall we, chained starvelings, go, buy law.
To save us from the robber's claw ?
Law is a cumbrous thing to move ;
It will not come and help for love !
Buy women to starve at ' market-price,'
Gallio-Law, with looks of ice.
Smiles placid ; poor man, steal a crust,
To feed them, Jefferies, judge most just.
Thee, wrath-red, into gyves will thrust.
' Church and State will guard,' saith he,
' The sacred rights of property ! '
England wrestles for the slave
Enthralled beyond the alien wave ;
Why doth this mother of the free
Let her strong sons with cruel glee
Crush weak sisters at her knee ?
Set thine own house in order — then
Go and preach to evil men !
In feudal dungeons underground
They buried their live victims l)ound,
And we in our vile vaults immure
These whose crime is to be poor.
Starve babes and women innocent,
Tortured, in black prisons pent.
Feudal lords NOvXAfeed the slave ;
But Capital from his despair
Extorts more toil than flesh can bear,
Keeps him half-living in his grave,
That serf may earn, and master have.
Till kindlier Death arrive to save.

" True men devise large schemes to heal
This gangrene of the Commonweal,
This prime injustice of the world.
That drones, who waste the wealth, may steal
From makers, to the dunghill hurled. . . .
. . . Ah, many hearts will founder and fail
Before these noble aims prevail ! . . .
(Not violence the cause will serve,
For blood and iron breed their kin ;
Yet the serried ranks ne'er swerve,
Armed Force and Fraud, Law-masquing
Sin ! . . .)
Ah ! Violence may be forgiven
To men fate-harried, God-bereaven ;
They tear their way forth to the end,
Toward which by vital growth we tend ;
Yea, war may plant good laws, free states ;
One cuts the knot in desperate straits. —
. . . My comrades yonder at the club
Will make short work of these that rob,—
While we prepare the general mind,
Uur best- beloved rot here and perish. . . .
I'll watch no more these millstones grind
The tender hearts and lives I cherish ! . . .
That robber's rent was in arrear ;
He came with flint-face, cane, black coat,
Would fling us on the street ; yea, here.
Shook my poor Mary, white with fear —
No strength was mine to clutch his throat !
My dying wife must stitch at those ;
Rich sick folk may lie abed,
Or fly from our black smoke and snows
To where blue air and ocean wed. . . .
Man's right ! we are powerless to assert it,
And man himself is God-deserted !
. . . What use to watch slow murder done
On wife, and babe, and little son —
When near me glides Oblivion ? "

So, while the indifferent body rolls,
With other things that have no souls,
On the blind tide to random goals,
In lustred lordly palace hall
Radiant boys and maidens play ;
On whose cold doorstep women fall
Starved, numbed, and naked, life gone grey
Within, youth's agile feet to sound
Of music flying, bells ring round,
Come and go upon the wind,
' ' Peace and goodwill to all mankind I "

On massy bridge, on broadbuilt quay,
Tumultuous tides of hurrying wealth
Sweep the marred sons of misery
(Who thrid by sufferance, by stealth.
Their faint way ; near the parapet
Cower, dull aware of fume and fret).
Sweep them to where they may forget !
For riverward wan eyes are bowed ;
Beside whom roars the traffic loud,
And the many-nationed crowd.
See grimed and haggard him or her.
Amid the animated stir
Of throngs that leave a theatre ;
Well-dressed men cab and carriage call.
Round white shoulders fold the shawl.
Praise or blame what box or stall
Observed of acted joy or grief.
Carelessly, with comment brief —
Civic, or military pomp,
Massed colour, banner, drum and trump.
Court dames in well-appointed carriages,
Fair-favoured, fashionable marriages
Wolf-lean Hunger's eye disparages !
Wherein, as in some magic glass,
Ye may foresee your triumph pass.
Learning's vaunted vast appliances
Shattered in terrible defiances,
Flinging to the wild winds all affiances !
Do ye not hear low thunders rumble.
Ere, lightning-struck, the fabric crumble ?
Your marts are thronged, luxurious, bright,
Your magic moons confound the night,
Yet marbled warehouse, palace height.
Grey minster that hath borne the brunt
Of Time's long battle, all confront
Shame, grim Nakedness, and Want !
While close-shut doors of secret sin
Open upon hell-flames within!

Hearken ! how grand organ strains
Shake the emblazoned window-panes,
Where priest and gorgeous ritual blesseth
Whoso prayeth, or confesseth.
In holy twilight of hushed fanes !
Yet Christmas carols from the church
Mock those dim figures by the porch,
Huddled, famished in their rags :
Drink-sodden these from alehouse lurch.
And those lie numbed upon the flags,
Till, passing, a policeman drags
To ward or workhouse, " moves them on "
Somewhere, while they make low moan,
Pale spectres of dread Babylon !
But the flaunting harlot's ditty
Striketh even a deeper pity,
Cruel Want's degraded daughter.
On her way to the dark water.
Where horror-breathing, dense brown air
Grimly shrouds a dumb despair. . . .
... Is their a worse hell over there ?

The holly and the mistletoe
Cheer our banquet, wine-cups flow.
Light laughter bubbles o'er the bowl,
And we forget no Christmas dole ;
Yet our grief-burdened sisters die
Around us in slow agony.
While we are ringing in the morn
When man's Deliverer was born ; . . .
. . . Ah ! but our Brother too wore thorn !

Pale Mary toils ; her hollow eyes
Are patient, mild, of heavenly blue ;
Hourly repeats the sacrifice
That all the world to Calvary drew ;

" Father, forgive their cruelties ;
For they know not what they do." . . .
. . . She murmurs, " Now I feel Thee near !
My little ones I leave to Thee :
Do what Thou wilt, — I trust, not fear. . . .
Thy Birthday bells ring merrily !
I am weary, and would rest.
Gentle Jesus, on Thy breast !
I shall see Willie, — yes, and Jim,
My heart's own husband ; turbid, dim,
His mind was from our suffering so ;
Therefore the Lord forgave, I know.
The unbelief that conquered him.
Ah ! but I wonder much how long
He will endure their cruel wrong ! "

A high-born sister who had left
Her vantage-ground to help the weak.
Supplying unto these bereft
From her full store whate'er they seek.
Came that night, a nurse, to tend
The dying woman ; and she heard
Near the poor pallet, ere the end.
Low song as from some heavenly bird.
Although no human lips were stirred !
Christ came, in vision, to the dying,
Led by the hand their own lost child ;
He saith : " Love justifies relying
On him, daughter ! " and she smiled !
Near the boy a Christmas tree
Laughed with lights full merrily !
And the little waif was there,
Rosy, with a joyful air,
Recovered from his life-despair.
Near Willie the boy kept his place,
But fearless looked into the Face
That seemed to him one pure embrace.
" Love justifieth your relying,
And heareth ever bitter crying
Of those whom the hard world hath spurned :
My martyrs high estate have earned."
A common workman seemed the Lord,
Standing by the poor bedside ;
Vet she knew He was the Word,
That Jesus who was crucified,
And poured contempt on human pride.
Pale and suffering His air.
From sympathy with our despair ;

Around His heart like snakes lie curled
The sins and sorrows of the world :
But the full orb of light iiehind,
Unmuffled, would strike mortals blind ;
Bad men slunk dwindled and abashed
When from His eyes the sunbeam flashed.

" My servants fashion even now
Justice for the commonweal ;
From toilers with the hand, the brow,
Idle men no more may steal ;
My servants seek ; I whisper how
They may find the remedy.
Save My little ones who cry :
For I am poor Myself, you know ;
The poor are Mine, and I will heal! —
Already dawns millennium ;
Soon My holy reign will come.
The man who loved you, whom you love,
Was of the faithful band I move.
Awhile I hid my face from him.
For awhile his ways were dim ;
Baser, earthlier passion jars
With spheral music of the stars ;
Yet in the end all makes, not mars !
I vindicate his human place
For every member of My race ;
Let every manhood find free scope !
Now, beasts of burden, with no hope,
Men ripen not peculiar grain.
Given to each for general gain.
The social body to sustain.
Your Churches rarely worship Me,
Who am the incarnate Charity :
They call indeed upon My name ;
But their proud Christ with crown and flame
Is another, not the same.
I made known a suffering God ;
I consecrated Pain's abode.
Yet are they refiiges for faith,
Though she be faded to a wraith.
Though driven from the altar, she
Oft in the world find sanctuary.
Strong men, refrain from legal greed !
Hear the fate-smitten when they plead I —
Justice, not almsgiving, they need.
God with conscience dowered you,
With more than in mere Nature grew ;
All are brethren, all are one ;
Wound other hearts, ye wound your own !
Strong men ! poor weak worms ! when ye fall,
On whom, in trouble, will ye call ?
When God hath changed your countenance,
And sends you feeble, fainting, hence ? "

Then that gentle Face grew stern ;
Sun-blazing eyes confront and burn
All the Temple-shadowed lies.
The marble-tomb proprieties
Of our later Pharisees,
Pious, proud, decorous, hard ;
He blasted base content, and marred.
They shrinking wither up, nor linger —
Even as when, writing with His finger,
In the old Syrian garden, He
Shamed with a God-word quietly
Phylacteried fathers of the men.
Whose race hath the hard heart, as then.
" My birthday bells chime merrily !
Come, dear child, more close to me !
My best is evermore the prize
Of souls who nobly agonise ! "

No feeble glimmer in the room,
Heaven's own effulgence doth illume
Her spirit ; the poor sempstress died,
And Love immortal claimed a bride.

Hark ! the Christmas bells ring round !
Many light hearts with joy abound ;
They come and go upon the wind :
" Peace and goodwill to all mankind !"