The Law and the Low

The low suffer most the blow of the law And no better do they fare with its flow: From injustice to injustice it carries them But none ever calls this a flaw. For like that, perhaps, she can’t help to be, Born of the mighty as she is. Once, though, every eternity the cords of patience snap: Justice is demanded and swiftly she comes. It's time for revolution, the clash unto ash between the classes. By saw and seesaw there'll be newness abroad: The old system teeters as its sinews are severed And from cakes of blood springs another; That long denied by law is now seized by claw, And from star to tar the mighty tumble As their thrones are lowered for dwarfs to mount. Upwards go the erstwhile low To be class dwarfs no more But the mighty of the land. Amidst this newness, though, an old song soon intrudes: In voices faint and mournful we hear it sung By those from star to lowly tar fallen. In fields and taverns, at work and at play, It dwells on lips bright and sullen; But up above behind stately walls where stands the palace None but the children dare sing it— The song they once heard old papa sing, Which loosened his lips like a wicked brew But now binds them shut like a glue. When from frolics they break In their playfields green And in palace parlors At once warm chants from their breasts erupt Which with glee and charm they long sustain Till every soul feel their lips beguiled To render accompaniment in a whistled melody. Then swirls the music about every ear, and all can hear the palace ring: “The low suffer most the blow of the law And no better do they fare with its flow: From injustice to injustice it carries them But none ever calls this a flaw. For like that, perhaps, she can’t help to be, Born of the mighty as she is.”