Marsh-Bloom by Voltairine De Cleyre — Read

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(To Gaetano Bresci.)

Requiem, requiem, requiem, / Blood-red blossom of poison stem / Broken for Man, / Swamp-sunk leafage and dungeon bloom, / Seeded bearer of royal doom, / What now is the ban?

What to thee is the island grave?

With desert wind and desolate wave / Will they silence Death?

Can they weight thee now with the heaviest stone?

Can they lay aught on thee with "Be alone,"

That hast conquered breath?

Lo, "it is finished" -- a man for a king!

Mark you well who have done this thing: / The flower has roots; / Bitter and rank grow the things of the sea; / Ye shall know what sap ran thick in the tree / When ye pluck its fruits.

Requiem, requiem, requiem, / Sleep on, sleep on, accursed of them / Who work our pain; / A wild Marsh-blossom shall blow again / From a buried root in the slime of men, / On the day of the Great Red Rain.

Philadelphia, July, 1901.

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