Industrial freedom. [volume] (Edison, Wash.) 1898-1???, 1899-02-04

JUSTICE.


gone?
Of whom, poets have written, in terms I'M
mistakable,
And bards have remembered so well in their
song.
We are told she was frequently seen by the
ancients,
She sometimes conversed with the good, in
those days,
And even took part in the councils of nations
And offered suggestions in various ways.
In the archives of old, in musty old records,
And parchments all widowed and mouldy
with age
Is many a reference-though vague-to poor
justice;
Her identity is proved, by historian and sage,
All nations have boosted of kno,v wing her
once.
And the chur III is acquainted with all her re-
lations.
But where is she now. if once she existed?
Not clue has she left among all of the ma
tions
Some think she is dead, as no sound of her
voice
Has pierced the dark ages for centuries past:
And are constantly hunting in search of her
grave,
To proclaim to the world they have found hor
at last.
She has circumnavigated this old planet,
fugitive, wandering from pole to pole.
In search of spot without thistes or thorns,
A haven of rest for her weary soul
But her old sworn enemies, Averice and
Greed,
Have followed her ever since time began
And have never allowed her an hour of peace
Not chapter, or page, in the STORY of
Man
Hunted and gagged she has taken to flight,
And for centuries, in silence, has kept in Sc
clusion,
Till her name has been lost, and the people
all think
This story of Justice" is only delusion.
Every monarch of old'kept special commit
tee.
To prevent her so much as entering his realm.
And vicious officials corrupt to the core
Have ever steered the monarchal helm.
A fabulous price has been placed on her head,
And badge of promotion awarded the knave
Who would bring her to court, either dead or
alive
No wondor she sleeps in an unknown grave.
When America opened her portals wide,
Inviting the sons from oppresson's shore,
To enter, and dwell in perpetual peace,
Where tyrant's voice should be heard no
more,
Poor Justice supposed she had found one
spot
On Gods green earth to erect her throne.
And forthwith proceeded to lay the founda-
tion,
With brotherly love as the cornerstone.
Her kingdom, She planned, on pillars should
stand
OF equity, wisdom, equality, truth;
"A refuge for mankind, for all time to come,
A solace to old age, guide-board to youth.
Alas for the goddess! Alas for her dream.
Plutocracy's sleuth-hounds have scented her
track
With fire in their eye, and appetites keen,
They have crossed the wild pillows to make
the attack
Once more she was routed and driven to
aieht,
And the chase kept upuutil the continent
was crossed,
But whether she fell prey to pursuers,
Or has died in the meantime, It's certain she's
lost.
Nav we hope our suspicious are false in the
main,
And that Justice still lives in seclusion's re-
treat,
And that one day she'll enter our midst in tri-
umph
With banner proclaiming King Mammons
defeat.
Already the rumble of martial tread
Is rife on the ear when the tempest is right
And the war-dogs OF capital, harnessed and
trained,
Are chafing and eager TO enter to the fight.
A sickening scene is this picture of carnage,
When the armies of labor and capital meet,
And with cannon and shell, and devices un-
heard OF,
Pour death and destruction in each others
feet.
But the fray will be short, and the struggle
fierce,
And a river of human blood will be spilled;
But victory shall perch on the banner Of
right,
The spirit Of tyranny conquered and killed
No more shall the tyrant his edicts proclaim,
10 plumber the laborer OF all he may earn,
or corner the fruits Of invention and genius,