The White Slave.

Position:Poems of Censure and Condemnation - Poem
 
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The White Slave I. Not bleeding 'neath the lash of Egypt's scorn, Not in the dungeon, nor in galley chains, Nor baited to the savage lions now, Like those to Nero's bloody thirst consigned. But look on him, the white slave of our time; See on his face the centuries' stamp of crime. II. Ye see no chains, but yet more sharp than steel Life's shackles cut into his tortured soul. The white slave toils away his hopeless life And dies like coral worm beneath the sea, That palaces and gardens by his hands may grow, While kingdoms rise and princes come and go. III. His masters revel while the white slave toils. "Be ye contented," is his only cheer. And when to God goes up a cry for help, In vain he prays to him who dwells on high: "O God of Plenty, art thou blind and deaf, That to this lowly cry comes no relief?" IV. His masters revel. Their remorse of soul Is drowned in ruby wine, when tears should flow; Lights of the ball room, softly pleading flutes. What thoughts are lent for tales of man's distress? Tell these of sorrow and they heed you not, For splendor hides from them the cancerous blot. V. The masters revel. Countless thousands starve. The white slave's cup of woe is surely full...

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