The herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1893-1900, 1895-03-05
The Voice OF the People
JAMES C. CLARK

This prophetic poem appeared first
some twelve years ago in the Woman s
Tribune, and has since been reproduced
by the press all over the civilized world.
it one of the most remarkable poems of
the age. -.4.
Swing inward, o! gates of the future,
Swing outward We doors of the past,
For the soul of the people is moving
And rising from slumber at last;
The black forms of night are retreating,
The white peaks have signaled the day,
And Freedom her long roll is beating,
And calling her sons to the fray
And woe to the rule that has plundered,
And trod down the wounded and slain,
While the wars of the Old Time have thun-
dered
And men poured their life-tide in vain;
The day OF its triumph is ending,
The evening draws near with its doom,
And the star of its strength is descending
To sleep in dishonor and gloom
Though the tall trees are crowned on the high
lands
With the first gold OF rainbow and sun
While far in the distance below them
The rivers in dark shadows run
They must fall. and the workman shall burn
them
Where the lands and the low waters meet,
And the steeds of the New Time shall spurn
them
With the soles OF their swift-fying feet
Swing inward, o gates till the morning
Shall paint the brown mountains in gold,
ill the life and the love Of the New Time
Shall conquer the hate of the Old.
Let the face and the hand of the Master
No longer be hidden from view,
Nor the lands He prepared for the many
Be tramp ed and robbed by the few
The soil tells the same fruitful story,
The seasons their bounties display,
The the flowers lift their faces i n glory
Il To catch the warm kis es of day, a
While our fellows are treated as cattle
That are muzzled when treading the corn,
And millions sink down in lifes battle
With curse for the day they were born.
Must the sea plead in vain that the river
May return to its mother for rest?
And the earth beg the rain clouds to give her
OF dews that are drawn from her breastY
Lol The answer comes back in lnuttcr
From domes where the quick lightnings
glow,
And from heights where the mad waters utter
Their warning to jewellers below.
And woe to the robbers who gather ....
In fields where they never have sown,
Who have stoien the jewels from labor
And buided to Mammon throne
For tn . snow king asleep at the fountains !
Shall wake in the Summers hot breath
And descend in his rage from the mountains, ,
Bearing terror, destruction and death.
And the throne OF their god shall be crumbled,
And the scepter be swept from his hand
And the heart of the naughty be hum bled,
And a servant he chief in the land;
And the truth and the power united
Shall rise from the graves OF the true,
And the wrongs OF the Old Time be righted
In the mi ght and the light of the New.
For the Lord of the harvest hath said it.
Whose lips never uttered q lie
And his prophets and poets have read it
In symbols of earth and of sky,
That to him who hath reveled plumber
Till the angel OF conscience is dumb.
The shock of the earthquake and tlunder
And tempest and torrent shall come.
Swing inward, 0! gates OF the future,
Swing outward ye doors of the past,
A giant is waking from slumber,
And rending his letters at last;
From the dust where his proud tyrants found
him
Unhonored and scorned and betrayed,
He shall rise with the sunlight around him.
And rule in the realm he has made.