"Rich stuffs our looms weave for fair ladies' wear." So read the caption in the daily press; Then followed fabrics in which women dress, Whose costly garments win a beggar's stare. Our looms weave? No! but men and women, where Looms roar Niagara-like, whose strain and stress Dull ears and eyes and soul, -- a weariness Rare pleasure cannot lift or night repair. Our looms weave? No! but men become machines, Which wages, dropping scanty oil, supply. The helps mind conjured here destroy the mind; For flesh and soul are fed to make sateens, While spindles, shuttles, faster, faster, fly, The brutish engine like all tyrants blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRESIDENT GARFIELD by GEORGE SANTAYANA ON CHLORIS WALKING IN THE SNOW by WILLIAM STRODE THE BIRTHDAY CROWN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1824-1911) DRUM TAPS TO HEAVEN by JAMES CHURCH ALVORD PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 88. AL-MUGHNI by EDWIN ARNOLD THE LAY OF ST. ODILLE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |