Carl Hamblin

The press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked,         And I was tarred and feathered,         For publishing this on the day the         Anarchists were hanged in Chicago:         "l saw a beautiful woman with bandaged eyes         Standing on the steps of a marble temple.         Great multitudes passed in front of her,         Lifting their faces to her imploringly.         In her left hand she held a sword.         She was brandishing the sword,         Sometimes striking a child, again a laborer,         Again a slinking woman, again a lunatic.         In her right hand she held a scale;         Into the scale pieces of gold were tossed         By those who dodged the strokes of the sword.         A man in a black gown read from a manuscript:         "She is no respecter of persons."         Then a youth wearing a red cap         Leaped to her side and snatched away the bandage.         And lo, the lashes had been eaten away         From the oozy eye-lids;         The eye-balls were seared with a milky mucus;         The madness of a dying soul         Was written on her face -         But the multitude saw why she wore the bandage."