Луиза Сара Бевингтон (Louisa Sarah Bevington)

The End of the World

Comrades! the end of the world's at hand!
    Our round earth planet? Ah, no;
The planet shall roll, and the great sun stand,
The beautiful seawaves break on the strand,
The flowers and fruits shall cover the land
    But the World and its ills shall go.

Wherever has rested the golden smirch
    White livers prepare to hie;
At sign from the gold god's tottering perch
See, loth and lingering far in the lurch,
Comes Mammon's black hireling, the politic Church,
    Canting the Socialist cry.

Hear how its foolish begin to say,
    In fear of the final rout
"The night grows old, and the dread new day
Requires that we follow the People's way;
Give us your oil, ye wise, we pray,
    For our lamps are all flickering out."

The first time passed, and he died alone,
    And the deaf world held on its way;
And priest and ruler the tares have sown,
Mingled with wheat they have rampant grown,
But the Harvester knows his ownhis own,
    And in judgment he comes today.

And Houses shall fall, built on golden sand,
    And only the Truth be dear;
The rockbuilt dwellings of faith shall stand,
The glad, free people shall joy in the land,
And heart trust heart e'en as hand helps hand,
    For the end of the World is here.

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