Classic Poem

Would you call upon the people; in what ear shall it be told?
Call on God, whose name is pity, though our sins be very old.
Will you call on street and township? Who but you have made the smoke
Something heavier than a vapour? Something sharper than a joke?
Who but you have taxed the townsmen of their tired and ugly tilth?
Who but you have made men forfeit for their right to live in filth?
Will you call on croft and village? On what village will you call
That four centuries of your lordship have not left a tithe too small?
Hamlets breaking, homesteads drifting, peasants tramping, towns erased;
Lo, my lords, we gave you England, and you gave us back a waste.
Yea, a desert labelled England, where you know (and well you know)
That the village Hampdens wither and the village idiots grow;
That the pride of grass grows mighty and the hope of men grows small.
Will you call on croft and village? Let the rabbits hear your call.

Will you call on crest and scutcheon? We might heed you, if we knew
Even one gutter-thief whose millions could not cut his way to you.
If there lived on earth one upstart from whose filthy face you shrank,
We would hear, my lords, more gravely of the grace and scorn of rank.
Now, if in your mob of merchants, usurers, idlers, cads, you keep
One that did have Norman fathers, let your Norman fathers sleep.
Let God's good grass grow above them, where their pointed pennons blew;
They were thieves and thugs and smiters; they were better men than you!

Will you call on cross and altar? And in God's name where were you
When the crashing walls of convents let the Tudor axes through?
Tell us of your deeds, Crusaders. Waken Ariosto's muse;
How you stood the church's champion, when the church had land to lose —
You, the Russells, with the ashes of a hundred altars shod,
You, the Howards, with your wallets bursting with the gold of God.
Will you call on cross and altar? Will you name the holy name?
No, by Heaven, you shall not name it. Smite your very mouths for shame!
Would you call upon the people? Would you waken these things then?
Call on God, whose name is Pity — Do not ask too much of men!