Volume 156 — COAL.

Dark jewel from the zone of Erebus! What son of Dis first dragged thee from thy lair To be a twofold benison to us Poor mortals shivering in the upper air When Phoebus nose-dives in his solar bus Beneath the waves and goes to shine elsewhere? Or if some monstrous progeny of Tellus Found thou wast Power and made the high gods jealous I do not know (I've lost my Lemprière), Nor if the fate that thereupon befell us Was for each load of coal two loads of care; Yet oft I wonder if beyond the Styx The price of thee is three pounds ten and six. Sun worshipper am I, and serve the gods Of stream and meadow and the flowery lea, Of winding woodways where the loosestrife nods In summer and in spring the anemone, And thymy sheep-paths where the ploughboy plods Home to his frugal but sufficient tea. Not for a crown, grim coal, would I pursue thee In subterranean passages and hew thee Mid poisonous fumes and draughts of tepid tea. Yet were I all undone should I eschew thee; Someone, in short, must dig thee up for me; And, if he deems it worth a pound a day, Well, who am I to say the fellow nay? The sailor heaves on Biscay's restless bay; His breeks are tarry but his heart is kind; The farmer grouses all the livelong day Howe'er with untaxed oof his jeans are lined; The shop-assistant works for paltry pay, Though of all manners his are most refined; But all of them can quaff the undefiled Sweet air of heaven and gaze with thankful eyelid On azure skies and feel the unfettered wind, Or in the park on Sunday, in a high lid, Or through the equinoctials blowing blind, Or at cold milking-time when dawns are red And birds awake and I remain in bed. Not so the miner! Though his private life Is blameless and his soul is pure and brave; Although he gives his wages to his wife And spanks his children when they don't behave; Though rather than incur industrial strife He takes the cash and lets the Bolshy rave, He is condemned to toil in mines and galleries, Nourished inside with insufficient calories, A sordid mineral's uncomplaining slave, Till the rheumatics get him and his pallor is So marked he hardly dares to wash and shave. And shall I grudge the man sufficient pelf For toil I'd rather die than do myself? Ah, there's the rub! I fain would see him blest With ample quarters and sufficient food, A spacious close wherein to take his rest, Hats for his wife and bootlets for his brood. But, now the Powers have granted his request, Too well I know what course will be pursued By certain merchants who "enjoy" my custom: They'll put the price of coal up, you can trust 'em, Till I by want am utterly oppressed And my finances, howso I adjust 'em, To my complete insolvency attest. Five pounds a ton they'll charge—I know their game— Saying, "Of course the miner is to blame." Nay, let me clasp the honest fellow's hand, Saying, "O miner, here is one who shares Your just desire to make this lovely land A fit abode for heroes and their heirs By ousting Plunder's profiteering band, Who take the cash and leave us all the cares. Oh, if we twain together might conspire, Would we not grasp them by the scruff and fire Coal merchants, barons, dukes and millionaires, And run the business to our hearts' desire, Paying no dividends on watered shares; Blessing State ownership and State control, You for high wages, I for cheaper coal." ALGOL.