And yoke on your shoulders the halter of hatred and
fury,
And dash head-down against the bastions of folly,
Because a colored cloth waves in the air, because a
drum beats in the street,
Because six men have promised you a piece of ribbon on
your coat, a carved tablet on a wall and your name
in a list bordered with black?
Shall you, then, be forever the stewards of death, when
life waits for you like a bride?
Ah, no, Brothers, not for this did our mothers shriek
with pain and delight when we tore their flanks
with our first cry;
Not for this were we given command of the beasts,
Not with blood but with sweat were we bidden to achieve
our salvation.
Behold! I announce now to you a great tidings of joy,
For if your hands that are gathered in sheaves for the
sickle of war unite as a bouquet of flowers between
the warm breasts of peace,
Freedom will come without any blows save the hammers
on the chains of your wrists, and the picks on the
walls of your jails!
Arise, and against every hand jeweled with the rubies
of murder,
Against every mouth that sneers at the tears of mercy,
Against every foul smell of the earth,
Against every head that a footstool raises over your
head,
Against every word that was written before this was
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