You are all of you useful, yet each of you free.
What man only talks of, the busy bee does;
Shares food, and keeps order, with no waste of buzz.
No cell that's too narrow, no squandering of wax,
No damage to pay, and no rent, and no tax.
No property tyrants, no bigwigs of State.
Free access to flowers, free use of all wings;
And when beelife is threatened, then free use of stings.
Each thrust at the risk of each soldier himself.
A lull and a leisure for each busy bee.
No overwork, underwork, glut of the spoil;
No hunger for any, no purposeless toil.
Economy, Liberty, Order, and Wealth!
Say, busy bee, how you reached Social Health?
Say rather, why not? It is easier so;
We have all the world open to come and to go.
We haven't got masters, we haven't got money,
We've nothing to hinder the gathering of honey.
The sun and the air and the sweet summer flowers
Attract to spontaneous use of our powers.
Our work is all natural nothing but play,
For wings and proboscis can go their own way.
We find it convenient to live in one nest,
None hindering other from doing her best.
We haven't a Press, so we haven't got lies,
And it's worth no one's while to throw dust in our eyes.
We haven't among us a single pretence,
And we got our good habits through sheer CommonSense.
Mad, as the world calls mad,
See Anarchy’s few;
Fighting the False and the Bad
In all that they do;
Forcing a way for the Glad,
The Pure, and the True.
Bolder and clearer it grows
The Anarchist task;
Liberty’s plausible foes
To assail and unmask;
Handing the torch as it glows
To all who may ask.
Great! oh, exceedingly great,
The Anarchists’ claim!
Fusing the falsehood of State
In unquenchable flame;
Breaking the fetters of fate
In Humanity’s name.
Breathing with fiery breath
On the mammonite crew;
Fearless, in splendor of faith,
Of the worst they can do;
Blessed, in life and in death,
O beneficent few!
Louisa Sarah Bevington - Revolution
Ah, yes! You must meet it, and brave it;
Too laggard too purblind to save it;
Who recks of your doubting and fearing
Phrase bound 'Evolution?'
Do you not hear the sea sounding it?
Do you not feel the fates founding it?
Do you not know it for nearing?
Its name Revolution.
What! stem it, and stay it, and spare it?
Or will you defy it, and dare it?
Then this way or that you must change you
For swift restitution.
Do you not see men deserving it?
Do you not hear women nerving it?
Down with old Mammon! and range you
To aid Revolution!
The last hour has struck of our waiting,
The last of your bloodless debating,
The wildfire of spirit is speeding
Us on to solution.
Do you not thrill at the uttering?
Do you not breathe the breeze fluttering
Round the brave flag of our pleading?
The world's Revolution!
Louisa Sarah Bevington - My Little Task
I THROW a guess out here or there,
I breathe a hope into the air,
I feel a dumbness like a prayer.
What, with this fencèd human mind,
What can I do to help my kind?
I such a stammerer, they so blind!
Nothing; save through the single gate
Of utterance throw my little weight
To swell the praise of what is great.
Nothing; save in my every song
Heap cold discredit on the wrong,
And cheer the march of right along.
And when I hear the lark's pure mirth,
Or see sweet flowers gladden earth,
Sing forth the mood that feels their worth.
Or when a bitter woe in me
Is healed by tender sympathy,
To let the healing songful be.
So add what force a singer may,
To ring opinion's echoing sway
A few chords mellower day by day.
Through chiming all that's pure and true,
Through hymning steadfast love anew,
This is the most that I may do.