Utopia of Usurers and Other Essays/The Escape
THE ESCAPE
We watched you building, stone by stone,The well-washed cells and well-washed gravesWe shall inhabit but not ownWhen Britons ever shall be slaves;The water's waiting in the trough,The tame oats sown are portioned free,There is Enough, and just Enough,And all is ready now but we.But you have not caught us yet, my lords,You have us still to get.A sorry army you'd have got,Its flags are rags that float and rot,Its drums are empty pan and pot,Its baggage is—an empty cot;But you have not caught us yet.
A little; and we might have slipped—When came your rumours and your salesAnd the foiled rich men, feeble-lipped,Said and unsaid their sorry tales;Great God! It needs a bolder browTo keep ten sheep inside a pen,And we are sheep no longer now;You are but Masters. We are Men. We give you all good thanks, my lords,We buy at easy price;Thanks for the thousands that you stole,The bribes by wire, the bets on coal,The knowledge of that naked wholeThat hath delivered our flesh and soulOut of your Paradise.
We had held safe your parks; but whenMen taunted you with bribe and fee,We only saw the Lord of MenGrin like an Ape and climb a tree;And humbly had we stood withoutYour princely barns; did we not seeIn pointed faces peering outWhat Rats now own the granary.It is too late, too late, my lords,We give you back your grace:You cannot with all cajolingMake the wet ditch, or winds that sting,Lost pride, or the pawned wedding rings,Or drink or Death a blacker thingThan a smile upon your face.