'Tis fired with alarms, and it arms with hot haste for the
imminent fray,
For it quakes at the tramp of King Mob, and the thought of this
Queen of the May.
The bandit of Capital falls, and shall perish in shame and in filth!
The harvest of Labour's at hand!--The harvest; but red is the
And the reapers are wrathful and rash, and the swift-wielded
sickle that strives
For the sheaves, not the gleaners' scant ears, seems agog for the
reaping of--lives!
Assassins of Capital? Aye! And their weakening force will ye mee
With assassins of Labour? Shall Brotherhood redden the field and
the street?
Beware of the bad black old lesson! Behold, and look close, and
beware!
There are flowers at your newly-built shrine, is the evil old
serpent not there?

[Illustration: THE NEW "QUEEN OF THE MAY."]

The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in blossoms, are
hatred's old arms.
And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true hearts, that succumb
to her charms?
Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that flicker like fir
The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall feed your
desire.
More than these things will she give, who looks fairer than all
these things?
Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red horror that