An Anthology of Chartist Poetry: Poetry of the British Working Class, 1830s-1850sPeter Scheckner Chartist poetry was written by and for workers. In contrast with the portrayal of workers by mainstream Victorian writers, Chartist verse is intellectual, complex, and socially conscious and reflects an international outlook. |
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Results 1-5 of 30
Page 27
... tears , who heard not the " voices of singing men and singing women , " but who cried " about the walls of Jerusalem . " Alton hopes that he too can " weep for the sins of my people , " and turns to the realities of his class : crime ...
... tears , who heard not the " voices of singing men and singing women , " but who cried " about the walls of Jerusalem . " Alton hopes that he too can " weep for the sins of my people , " and turns to the realities of his class : crime ...
Page 63
... tears , But come to Chester Gaol . Farewell , brave Chartists ; never dream Of finding any bail , Until you have prepared the tools , That will convince both knaves and fools , You are determined to have rules To regulate the scale ...
... tears , But come to Chester Gaol . Farewell , brave Chartists ; never dream Of finding any bail , Until you have prepared the tools , That will convince both knaves and fools , You are determined to have rules To regulate the scale ...
Page 69
... tear in the eye of child , woman , or man . To the grave with his carcase , as fast as you can : " Rattle his bones over the stones ; He's only a pauper , whom nobody owns ! " What a jolting and creaking , and splashing and din ! The ...
... tear in the eye of child , woman , or man . To the grave with his carcase , as fast as you can : " Rattle his bones over the stones ; He's only a pauper , whom nobody owns ! " What a jolting and creaking , and splashing and din ! The ...
Page 75
... tears . Aye ! tears direct from the throbbing heart— Hot drops from burning brain— Yet no relief from that shower of grief— Her tyrant came again . Then I heard the crack of the sounding whip Ring sharply through the air ; But the slave ...
... tears . Aye ! tears direct from the throbbing heart— Hot drops from burning brain— Yet no relief from that shower of grief— Her tyrant came again . Then I heard the crack of the sounding whip Ring sharply through the air ; But the slave ...
Page 86
... tears they are due , Oft has he charmed my mind ; And every coarse corroding care , He softep'd and refined . No ... tear . Well did he know the passions ' force— Each joy , each grief — he knew : And with a master's hand expos'd Their ...
... tears they are due , Oft has he charmed my mind ; And every coarse corroding care , He softep'd and refined . No ... tear . Well did he know the passions ' force— Each joy , each grief — he knew : And with a master's hand expos'd Their ...
Contents
CXIX | 199 |
CXXI | 201 |
CXXII | 203 |
CXXIV | 205 |
CXXV | 206 |
CXXVII | 208 |
CXXVIII | 209 |
CXXIX | 211 |
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XXXII | 95 |
XXXIII | 96 |
XXXIV | 97 |
XXXV | 98 |
XXXVI | 99 |
XXXVIII | 100 |
XL | 101 |
XLII | 102 |
XLIII | 105 |
XLIV | 107 |
XLVI | 108 |
XLVII | 109 |
XLIX | 110 |
L | 112 |
LI | 114 |
LII | 116 |
LIII | 119 |
LIV | 120 |
LV | 122 |
LVI | 123 |
LVII | 124 |
LVIII | 125 |
LIX | 126 |
LX | 127 |
LXI | 128 |
LXII | 129 |
LXIV | 130 |
LXV | 131 |
LXVI | 133 |
LXVIII | 134 |
LXIX | 135 |
LXX | 136 |
LXXI | 138 |
LXXII | 139 |
LXXIII | 140 |
LXXIV | 141 |
LXXVI | 143 |
LXXVII | 144 |
LXXVIII | 145 |
LXXIX | 146 |
LXXXI | 147 |
LXXXII | 148 |
LXXXIII | 149 |
LXXXIV | 150 |
LXXXV | 151 |
LXXXVI | 152 |
LXXXVII | 153 |
LXXXVIII | 154 |
LXXXIX | 155 |
XC | 156 |
XCI | 157 |
XCII | 159 |
XCIV | 161 |
XCVI | 163 |
XCVIII | 165 |
C | 166 |
CI | 168 |
CII | 169 |
CIII | 170 |
CIV | 171 |
CV | 172 |
CVI | 173 |
CVII | 175 |
CVIII | 179 |
CIX | 182 |
CX | 184 |
CXI | 185 |
CXII | 186 |
CXIII | 192 |
CXIV | 194 |
CXV | 195 |
CXVI | 196 |
CXVII | 197 |
CXXX | 213 |
CXXXI | 214 |
CXXXII | 215 |
CXXXIII | 216 |
CXXXIV | 217 |
CXXXV | 220 |
CXXXVI | 222 |
CXXXVII | 224 |
CXXXIX | 225 |
CXL | 226 |
CXLI | 228 |
CXLII | 229 |
CXLIII | 230 |
CXLIV | 235 |
CXLV | 236 |
CXLVI | 237 |
CXLVII | 238 |
CXLVIII | 239 |
CL | 240 |
CLIII | 241 |
CLIV | 242 |
CLV | 243 |
CLVII | 244 |
CLVIII | 245 |
CLIX | 246 |
CLX | 247 |
CLXI | 248 |
CLXIII | 249 |
CLXIV | 250 |
CLXV | 251 |
CLXVII | 252 |
CLXVIII | 253 |
CLXIX | 254 |
CLXX | 256 |
CLXXI | 257 |
CLXXIII | 258 |
CLXXIV | 260 |
CLXXV | 261 |
CLXXVI | 264 |
CLXXVII | 265 |
CLXXIX | 267 |
CLXXX | 268 |
CLXXXI | 269 |
CLXXXII | 271 |
CLXXXIII | 272 |
CLXXXIV | 273 |
CLXXXV | 274 |
CLXXXVI | 276 |
CLXXXVIII | 278 |
CLXXXIX | 279 |
CXC | 281 |
CXCII | 282 |
CXCIV | 284 |
CXCV | 285 |
CXCVII | 287 |
CXCVIII | 288 |
CXCIX | 289 |
CC | 291 |
CCI | 292 |
CCII | 293 |
CCIV | 294 |
CCV | 296 |
CCVI | 298 |
CCVII | 299 |
CCIX | 300 |
CCX | 302 |
CCXI | 303 |
CCXII | 304 |
CCXIV | 305 |
CCXVI | 307 |
CCXVII | 308 |
CCXVIII | 309 |
CCXX | 311 |
CCXXI | 312 |
CCXXII | 313 |
CCXXIV | 314 |
CCXXV | 315 |
CCXXVII | 317 |
CCXXVIII | 318 |
CCXXIX | 319 |
CCXXX | 320 |
CCXXXI | 321 |
CCXXXII | 322 |
CCXXXIII | 325 |
CCXXXIV | 326 |
CCXXXV | 346 |
CCXXXVI | 351 |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Alton Locke arms banner battle blood brave bread British brothers called chains Charter Chartist Circular Chartist movement Chartist poetry Chester Gaol child Corn Laws crown dare dark despots Dickens dream E. P. Thompson earth Ebenezer Elliott England English Republic Ernest Jones eyes factory Feargus O'Connor freedom gather George Julian Harney Gerald Massey glorious glory God's gold grave hand Hark Harney hath heart heaven hope Hurrah Ibid John King knaves labour land Leeds General Advertiser liberty literature live London Lord March Massey mighty millions National Trades Journal never night Northern Star O'Connor o'er oppression pauper peace people's poem poet poor prison Purgatory of Suicides radical Red Republican sing slaves smile social soul Star and Leeds Star and National starve struggle tears thee thou throne toil tyrants verse voice William Lovett workers working-class wrong
Popular passages
Page 161 - Oh! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet; For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal.
Page 159 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch— stitch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this
Page 161 - WITH fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread, — • Stitch— stitch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the "Song of the Shirt!
Page 30 - AN old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king ; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn — mud from a muddy spring ; Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know. But leech-like to their fainting country cling...
Page 160 - Work, work, work! From weary chime to chime ; Work, work, work, As prisoners work for crime : Band and gusset and seam, Seam and gusset and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.
Page 70 - Rattle his bones over the stones; He's only a pauper, whom nobody owns!
Page 28 - More and more mankind will discover that we have to turn to poetry to interpret life for us, to console us, to sustain us.
Page 146 - Condensed in ire ! Strike, tawdry slaves, and ye shall know Our gloom is fire. In vain your pomp, ye evil powers, Insults the land ; Wrongs, vengeance, and the cause are ours, And God's right hand ! Madmen ! they trample into snakes The wormy clod ! Like fire, beneath their feet awakes The sword of God ! Behind, before, above, below, They rouse the brave ; Where'er they go, they make a foe, Or find a grave.
Page 160 - Work, work, work ! My labor never flags ; And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, A crust of bread, and rags ; That shattered roof, and this naked floor, A table, a broken chair, And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there.
Page 259 - Of the good time coming. Cannon-balls may aid the truth, But thought's a weapon stronger ; We'll win our battle by its aid ; — Wait a little longer. There's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : The pen shall supersede the sword, And Right, not Might, shall be the lord In the good time coming.
References to this book
Victorian Culture and Society: The Essential Glossary Adam Charles Roberts No preview available - 2003 |