Life, 1911-02-16 · page 17 of 44
Life — February 16, 1911 — page 17: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is satirical political poetry by R.W.K. attacking the leisure class (shown in the cartoon as idle, well-dressed figures) by warning them of a coming uprising by working poor. The poem uses military metaphors to describe laborers—"the Hungry Men"—gathering from factories, mines, farms, and sweatshops. They're "armed" not with weapons but tools (picks, axes, wrenches, composing-sticks). The reference to a "brass-bound sceptre: the brass composing-stick" suggests labor organizing and printing/publishing—workers claiming authority through communication. The historical comparisons (Spartans, Norman conquest, Civil War generals) elevate this working-class movement to epic significance. The message: the wealthy should expect revolutionary change, as the organized poor will eventually "hand the keys of the cities" from them. This reflects early 20th-century labor movement anxieties among America's elite—fears of strikes, unionization, and socialist organizing.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
349 PVPS WwreRKea THE LEISURE CLASS 1P BIRDS OF A FEATHER did FLOCK TOGETHER The March of the Hungry Men I the dreams of your downy couches, through the shades of your pampered sleep, Give car: you can hear it coming, the tide that is steady and deep— Give ear, for the sound is growing, from desert and dungeon and den: The tramp of the marching millions, the March of the Hungry Men. As once the lean-limbed Spartans. at Locris’s last ascent, As William's Norman legions through Sussex meadows went, As Wolfe assailed the mountain, as Sherman led the way From Fulton to Savannah—as they, and more than they; So comes another army your wit cannot compute, The man-at-arms self-fashioned, the man you made the brute, From farm and sweatshop gathered, from factory, mine and miil, With lever and shears and auger, dibble and drift and drill. They bear nor sword nor rifle, yet their ladders are on your walls, Though the hauberk is turned to a jumper, the jambeaux to overalls : They come from the locomotive, the cab and the cobbler’s bench: They are armed with the pick and the jack-plane, the sledge and the ax and the wrench. And some come empty-handed with fingers gnarled and strong, And some come dumb with sorrow, and some sway drunk with song, But all that you thought were buried are stirring and lithe and quick, And they carry a brass-bound sceptre: the brass composing- stick. Through the depths of the Devil's darkness, with the distant stars for light, They are coming the while you slumber, and they come with the might of Right; On a morrow—perhaps to-morrow—you will waken and see, and then You will hand the keys of the cities to the ranks of the Hungry Men. RW. K. ans comicbooks.com