Page:The Yellow Book - 05.djvu/334

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302
Fleet Street Eclogue
But by the altar everywhereI find the money-changer's stall;And littering every temple-stairThe sick and sore like maggots crawl.
Brian.Hush, hush!
Menzies.I cannot hush! The poor,The maimed, the halt, the starving come,Crying for help at every door;But loud the ecclesiastic drumOutbids them; and behind it waitThe bones and cleavers of the State.
Sandy.This smacks of Disestablishment!
Brian.We'll find him next attacking Rent!
Basil.Your talk is vain; your voice is hoarse.
Menzies.I would they were as hoarse and vainAs their wide-weltering spring and sourceOf helpless woe, of wrath insane.
Herbert.
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