The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-04-17
For the National Era.
TO THE WORKINGMEN OF AMERICA.
BY GEORGE w. PUTNAM.

TO THE WORKINGMEN OF AMERICA.
BY GEORGE w. PUTNAM.
ne land shall NOT be sold forersT."-MosKs.
here is no fourdation ia mature or in natural d
set of cords upon parchment should cOnrey the
m Of land.
We toiling millions Of the land,
Whose poverty is guilt,
Who grind within the prison house
False Legislation built
Whose full strength from the early dawn
To eve for bread is given
We wOt not that your kindred
Are the angel throng Of heaven.
Early doomed TO toll whose utmost stretch
Scarce brings that scanty bread,
Starved Is the soul within ye,
And your better pst,re dead.
Though bleared aud blind, the light OF truth
May not reach your mental eye;
For ye dare not leave your task to CALL
Though CHRIST were passing by.
We by foul Mammon's wOrshippers
Are turned from your high goal
Their strong chain of necessity
Calling body, soaring soul.
With Deaths early blight upon your brow,
Humbled, crouching like the slave
Through this worlds dim-lishted workshop,
Ye grope on to the grave.
That few may ride in splendor,
Climb Ambitions starry way,
BE in linen and in purple clothed,
And fare sumptuous" every day,
Ye bow your neck and cover
To your brothers. yoke and rod,
And charge wrong and foul confusion
To the blessed hand of God!
.-.-..-.-' 7rs X r'.a.Y
The green fields and the wafer brooks
liz made and gave to you
Pledges seed time, pledges hiryest,
Sends the early rain and dew.
Though your siuews crack with labor,
Scarce the hunger cry is stlled,
While those fruitful lands Ii, desolate,.
Untrodden and untitled!
Ay though your name is LRsIoN,
We are ridden by the fe1!
Who do that legislative work
Which We yourselves shouH do.
We make yourselves as chess men,
To be pushed about the board,
While the wealth your ceaselesa toll creates
Piles up the glutted hoard!
While ye thus deny your manhood
To keep some party name,
Ye gather TO yourselves and kii
An heritage Of shame;
While ye wheel at their proud bidding,
To the sound of party drum,
Ye weary sing drowsy song
Ola "good time to oome!n
song-not that New Hsmpslire's sons
So thrillingly do sing
But the drone Of him who fold, his arms,
And owns Fear as his King.
He sings that song who dares rot look
Oppression in the face!
But hides him from the storm which pOurs
Upon his hspess race!
He sings us of a brighter dawn
And Of a better day,
When, at Persuasion's gentle voice
Dark Crime shall fee away!
While e'en now Ger your trampled heads
The heavens show no light,
And for the children Of your love
There waiteth deeper night!
good time shall come, my boys
Let not the laborer doubt it.
When they who can't get bread to eat,
Must learn TO live without 10.
Keep step, then, to your slms-house march,
Your pauper dirge still humming;
God help you but your GLORIOUS time"
Seems long time coming!
Where is the proof! when shall your song
The tide Of ruin check
Lo! draymen's sons and butchers girls
Ride roughshod DER our neck!
Our wounds, like those Of murdered men,
Bleed at each touch afresh;
While landlord Shylocss," strong in Law,
Take their full "pound Of hesh!"
Talk ye Of Laws i--of all the host
Our patriot rulers make,
None liz the injured workingmsn,
Or his dark thraldom break.
II they chain oppression's bloodhound up,
He from the collar slips;
And their legal word, like Sodom's fruit
Is ashes on cur lips
BE patIent-sy! till hope is dead,
Her burial place forgot
Till your brother slave shall change hIs-hue,
The leopard Grange his spot:
Then may the heart Of AvArice
BE willing ye may live,
And the daughter Of the horse leech,
Blood filed, cease crying GIVE!
Oppression in her armor house
Hath great array Of chains,
For the white Serf on the Northern hills,
And Slave on Southern plains:
One wears the heavy chain which clanks,
Which gals the grosser part;
One besrs the name Of Freeman,
With the foot-mark on bis heart!
One cringes meath the singing lash,
The sport Of Tyrant's word
One boweth, for his children's bread,
To the Northern Cotton Lord
The white serf and the dark slave stand
Before their masters dumb
For Born shall early come
Back! miniOns, back there glsameth yet
No bayonet At our throats;
Hotter than shot from bursting bomb
Shall rain the freemen's votes!
While the old world rings with clash Of steel,
Shakes meath the lannon's shocks,
Ours are the arms Omnipotent.
The Pass and BALLOT Box!
God keep upon New EngIsnd's hills
The workingmen's array;
Soon may her children bless the hour
When ssrtdosa asss away
When unto Labor 9 sinewy arm
The broad lands shall be given,
And our Nation, from It's plague-spOt eleanssd,
Keep her bright path to Heaven.
Ay! good time shall come, my boys,
When the WOrkingmen are up,
To bow no more the humble head,
Or drain the bitter cup
When heart to heart and arm 10 arm,
Full reused, they fearless stand,
To beat Oppressions brszen face
And bone.deep set the brand!
Then spurn the "philanthropic" cur
Who whines while ruin rules
And scou. the song he hourly sings,
The song Of knaves and fools.
Up mp! and strike yourseire' the blow!
Yere born TO bear the sway,
And at the Ballot Box, my boys,
that better day -
m, March 26, 1851.
cE PowKR-A gentleman In Kirkalads, 800
has trained q couple Of mice and invente
inery enabling them to spin cotton yarl
work Is 30 constructed that the commo
mouse Is enabled to make atonement TO ..
for past offences, by twisting twine and reel