The age-herald., 1901-01-01
LABOR'S GREETING
 TO 10TH CENTURY Dinner Given Under Auspices of
 the Working Men EDWIN MARKHAM READ POEM Comptroller Coler Said Labor Can Ac. complish Anything By Making
 It's Tool the Ballot Box h.
 stead of Boycott.
EDWIN MARKHAM READ POEM

given tonight at Arlington Hall under the auspices \ of the working men of New York, and was called "Labor's Greeting to the Twentieth Century" It was projected by the committee of one hundred which was organized to call convention OH January next in Cooper Union to estab= Nsh in New York city federation or coun- ell of delegates from labor and reform so- cieties, which shall demand that legisla- tors frame the will of the people on mat ters of the tenement house problem, sweat shop system. etc.
 Among the speakers and toasts were: Industrial Peace" Bishop Potter; 'The Right to Love-" Henry George, Jr.; "The Peoples Unity" Joseph Barondess; ''The City of New York" Byrd S. Coler, and "A Century Poem." by Elwin Markham. Comptroller Coler said in his address:
 The workingmen can accomplish any, thing they undertake if they will make their tool the ballot box instead of boy cott"
 Edwin Markham was loudly cheered. Following is his poem: We stand here at the end of mighty years --AN '" oiNo' "ohuS4 IuSiitS Ou tHe neart, While cities rose and' blossomed into dust, While shadowy lines of kings were blown
 to air,
 What was the purpose breeding on the
 world
 Through the large leisure of the centuries |? Lo. man has laid his sceptre on the stars And sent his spell upon the continents. The heavens confess their secrets, and the
 stones,
 Silent as God, publish their mystery Man calls the llghtnings from their secret
 place,
 To crumple under the spaces of the world And snatch the jewels from the flying
 hours.
 The wild white smoking horses of the sea- Are startled by his thunders. The world
 powers,
 Crowd round to be the lackeys of the
 King.
 His hand has torn the veil of the great
 law,
 The law that was made before the world s
 before
 That far first whisper on the ancient deep. The law that swings Arturus on the Forth, And hurls the soul of man upon the way, But what avail. O, builders of the world, Unless ye build a safety for the soul? Man has put harness on leviathian, And hooks in his corrigible jaws; And yet the peers of the streets remain. Out of the whirlwind of the cities rise Lean hunger and the worm of misery, The heart break and the cry of mortal
 tears.
 But hark, the bugles blowing on the peaks; And hark, murmur as of many feet, The cry of captains, the divine alarm Look. the last son of time comes hurrying
 on,
 The strong young titan of democracy With swinging stride he takes the open
 road.
 In love with the winds that beat his hairy
 breast,
 Bearing his sunburned strength to all the
 world
 He casts his eyes around with jovial
 glance,
 Searches the tracks of old tradition: scans, With rebel heart, the books of pedigree: Peers into the face of privilege and cries. Why are you halting in the path of man? Is it your shoulder bears the human load |? Do you draw down the rains of the sweet
 heaven.
 And keep the greer things growing? Back
 to Hell.
 We know at last thsfuture Is secure: God is descending fS6m eternity. And all thingsp good and evil build the Yes d a0Ta s5.dS in he thick of things. the men Are thump6g the inhospitable clay By wondfous tolls the men without the
 dream,
 Led onward by a something unawares. Are laying the f0uuda tfons of fha draar |.