Towards democracy

In the Stone-floored Workshop 417

Or finds among the marl and clay beneath his feet A ruby fair embedded—and stops and takes it.

[The Earth, so dead and gross, and yet to points of | finest light

Still working in the silence of her unseen chambers!

And thou, great common People, slavish still and brute and ignorant, in alley and tavern,

Yet in thy rugged mass fair hearts of finest glow

Infallibly condensing !]

Come, son (since thou hast said it), out of all Shiraz Hafiz salutes thee comrade. Let us go A spell of life along the road together.

In THE STONE-FLOORED WorkSHOP

HERE in the stone-floored workshop in the middle of a great dirty city—the windows half made up with dustThree men, astraddle on their horsings, and over their igrinding wheels bending.

The drum that brings the power from the engine-room jpounds and thumps, the belting slaps and crackles, whizz go ithe wheels so steady in their sockets, and the streams of sparks fly rustling.

All is so old-fashioned, perhaps much as it was four or five centuries ago;