Honor

(To the Night-Riders Who Murdered Hedges)

Honor to men Who leave their homes And children safe asleep, To take the cover of night and fright Women that wake and weep! Honor, again, To those who mount For blood--hounds in a pack! But let us honor the most of all-- Men that shoot in the back!

For, it is good To fare a-field And frighten helpless things, And how good with a torch to scorch A poor man's harvestings. But, if you would Do something high And blameless, brave not black, Ride till you find a peaceful man-- Then shoot--shoot in the back!

Why, there was one In Palestine Who gave a certain kiss. More, fine friends, do you give who live In a land not far from this! For what he had done He hanged himself-- Shame made a sick heart crack. But you will muster and ride again-- And shoot--shoot in the back!

Oh, and you may! But wait, the Day Will come--shall it not come? The Sovereign Law that you flaunt and daunt, Will she lie always dumb? Her prisons gray They are slow, but wide; When they open, you will lack Many a thing--but most the fair, Brave chance to shoot in the back!

O that a man Should write such words Of any soul alive! That any shameless ear should hear-- And still in stealth connive To burn and to ban, From home and help, The weak who fear the rack! That he could wait till Justice turns, Then shoot--shoot in the back!