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Death Tollmanded infor Emancipation fromSlaveryLIBERTYBy Walt WhitmanThose corpses of Young; men,Those martyrs that hang; from the gibbets—those hearts pierved by gray lead,Cold and motionless as they seem, live elsewhere with unslaughtered vitality.They live in other young men, O k i n gs!They live again in brothers ready to defy you!They were purified by death—they were taught and exalted.Not a grave of the murdered for freedom, but grows seed for freedom, in its turn to bear seed, Which the winds carry afar and resow, and the rains and the snows nourish.Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of tyrants let loose, But it stalks invisibly over the earth, whispering, counciling, cautioning.Liberty! let others despair of you!I never despair of you;Is the house shut? Is the masteraway ?Nevertheless, be ready—be not weary of watching;Ho will return soon—his messengers come anon.A B RA HA M ROBINOWITZ‘Tm dying, boys, but don’t give up.Lift me up. I want to sing the ‘RedFlag' again,” said Abraham Robino-witz. As his name indicates, he be-!onglt; d to the race long without a flag. Who will deny him one in death? lie was shot in the back of the head by a high-power rifle bullet.Trying to sing, he breathed his last n the arms of his friend—himself an eai nest-faced lad of 13 years. He, too, was hit in the back by a spent rifle bullet.Is the lad or the man who fired from ambush, the more dangerous character ?Following is the song he tried to sing. It was written by James Connelly, the Irish revolutionist, who was executed by the English government for his activities in the recent uprising in Ireland:The Red FlagThe workers' flag is deepest red,It shrouded oft, our martyred dead;f And ere their limbs grew stiff and coldTheir life-blood dyed its every fold.CHORUS:Then raise the scarlet standard high Beneath its folds, we’ll live and die, Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,We’ll keep the red flag flying here.Lood ’round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,The sturdy German chants its praise; In Moscow’s vaults, its hymns are sung,Everett swells its surging song.It waved above our infant might When all ahead seemed dark asnightIt witnessed many a deed and vow, We will not change its color now.It suits today, the meek and base, Whose minds are fixed on pelf and place;To cringe beneath the rich man’s frown,And haul that sacred emblem down. With heads uncovered, swear we all,To bear it onward till we fall;Come dungeons dark, or gallowsgrim,This song shall be our parting hymn!
Newspaper Details
Everett Northwest Worker
Everett, Washington, US
Thu, Nov 23, 1916
Page 1
Full Page
Clipped by
James B.
USA 26 Jan 2023
Other Publications Near Everett, Washington
Everett Washington Socialist
Everett Northwest Worker
Everett Labor Journal
Everett Cooperative News
Everett Commonwealth
