Towards democracy

Empire 465 The heart is dying down,

Withering within the body; and the veins

Are choked with yellow dirt.

And this Thing cnes for Empire.

This Thing from all her smoky cities and slums, her idiot clubs and drawing-rooms, and her brokers’ dens,

Cries out to give her blessings to the world!

And eyen while she cries

Stand Ireland and India at her doors

In rags and famine.

These are her blessings of Empire!

Ireland (dear Sister-isle, so near at hand, so fertile, once sO prosperous),

Rack-rented, drained, her wealth by absentees in London wasted, her people with deep curses emigrating ;

India the same—her life-blood sucked—but worse :

Perhaps in twenty years five hundred millions sterling, from her famished myriads,

t Taken to feed the luxury of Britain,

Taken, without return—

While Britain wonders with a pious pretence of innocence

Why famine follows the flag.

Last, but not least, insult is added to injury.

For, while she prates the blessings of her Empire, contempt and studied indifference are her methods of admin| istering it: