In An East End Hovel. To A Workman, A Would-Be Suicide.

Man of despair and death,      Bought and slaved in the gangs,      Starved and stripped and left      To the pitiful pitiless night,      Away with your selfish thoughts!      Touch not your ignorant life!      Are there no masters of slaves,      Jeering, cynical, strong -      Are there no brigands (say),      With the words of Christ on their lips      And the daggers under their cloaks -      Is there not one of these      That you can steal on and kill?      O as the Swiss mountaineer      Dogged on the perilous heights      His disciplined conqueror foes: {39a}      Caught up one in his arms      And, laughing exultantly,      Plunged with him to the abyss:      So let it be with you!      An eye for an eye, and a tooth      For a tooth, and a life for a life!      Tell it, this hateful strong      Contemptuous hypocrite world,      Tell it that, if we must live      As dogs and as worse than dogs,      At least we can die like men!      Tell it there is a woe      Not for the conquered alone! {39b}      An eye for an eye, and a tooth      For a tooth, and a life for a life!