England.

Where'er I go in this dense East, In sunshine or shade, I retch at the villainous feast That England has made.

And my shame cannot understand, As scorn springs elate, How I ever loved that land That now I hate!

THE FISHERMAN. (Mindanao, Philippines.)

In the dark waveless sea, Deep blue under deep blue, The fisher drifts by on the tide In his small pole-balanced canoe.

Above him the cloud-clapped hills Crown the dense jungly sweeps; The cocoa-nut groves hedge round The hut where the beach-wave sleeps.

Is it not better so To be as this savage is, Than to live the wage-slave's life Of hopeless agonies?

A SOUTH-SEA ISLANDER.

Aloll in the warm clear water, On her back with languorous limbs, She lies. The baby upon her breasts Paddles and falls and swims.

With half-closed eyes she smiles, Guarding it with her hands; And the sob swells up in my heart-- In my heart that understands.

Dear, in the English country, The hatefullest land on earth, The mothers are starved and the children die, And death is better than birth!