Judge Not

To foreigners in San Francisco, greeting. When you see a labor-leader fiercely beating The air with all his fingers to betoken His view of this or that ere yet ’tis spoken— When you see him, as in dancing, foot it featly To manifest dissent the more completely— When you hear him in a tempest of emotion Deflate himself of some unpeaceful notion, Don’t prophesy a blazing revolution; Don’t drag the guillotine from its seclusion; Don’t whistle up a storm of blood and thunder, To fill the world with horror, fear and wonder! He’s dreadful in defining his position, He’s terrible in threatening sedition— And a Past Grand Master of Submission.