Shelley the Socialist

Appeal to the Men of England 

Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?

Wherefore feed, and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat — nay, drink your blood?

Wherefore, bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain and scourge
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?

Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love’s gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?

The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears,
The arms ye forge another bears.

Sow seed — but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth — let no imposter keep,
Weave robes — let not the idle wear;
Forge arms — in your defense to bear.

Shrink to your cellars, holes and cells;
In halls ye deck, another dwells;
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.

With plough and spade, and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre.

 Percy Shelley

For more reading on Shelley see this article Shelley, Poet and Socialist and this article Godwin, Shelley and Communism

"I should like to know what there is in a man being an Englishman, a Spaniard, or a Frenchman, that makes him worse or better than he really is. He was born in one town, you in another, but that is no reason why he should not feel for you, desire your benefit, or be willing to give you some advice, which may make you more capable of knowing your own interest, or acting so as to secure it"  - Shelley