When Socialism Comes, It May Be In

In Prison Wearily, Drearily, Half The Day Long, Flap The Great Banners High Over The Stone; Strangely And Eerily Sounds The Wind's Song, Bending The Banner-poles. While, All Alone, Watching The Loophole's Spark, Lie I, With Life All Dark, Feet Tethered, Hands Fettered Fast To The Stone, The Grim Walls, Square Lettered With Prisoned Men's Groan. Still Strain The Banner-poles Through The Wind's Song, Westward The Banner Rolls Over My Wrong.

Give Me Love And Work - These Two Only.

So With This Earthly Paradise It Is, If Ye Will Read Aright, And Pardon Me, Who Strive To Build A Shadowy Isle Of Bliss Midmost The Beating Of The Steely Sea.

Love Is Enough Love Is Enough: Though The World Be A-waning, And The Woods Have No Voice But The Voice Of Complaining, Though The Skies Be Too Dark For Dim Eyes To Discover The Gold-cups And Daisies Fair Blooming Thereunder, Though The Hills Be Held Shadows, And The Sea A Dark Wonder, And This Day Draw A Veil Over All Deeds Passed Over, Yet Their Hands Shall Not Tremble, Their Feet Shall Not Falter: The Void Shall Not Weary, The Fear Shall Not Alter These Lips And These Eyes Of The Loved And The Lover.

Slayer Of The Winter, Art Thou Here Again? O Welcome, Thou That Bring'st The Summer Nigh! The Bitter Wind Makes Not The Victory Vain. Nor Will We Mock Thee For Thy Faint Blue Sky.