I am a democrat in so far as I love the free sun in men
and an aristocrat in so far as I detest narrow-gutted, possessive
persons.
I love the sun in any man
when I see it between his brows
clear, and fearless, even if tiny.
But when I see these great successful men
so hideous and corpse-like, utterly sunless
like gross successful slaves grossly waddling,
then I am more than radical, I want to work a guillotine.
And when I see working men
pale and mean and insect-like, scuttling along
and living like lice on poor money
and never looking up,
then I wish, like Tiberius, the multitude had only one head
so that I could lop it off.
I feel that when people have gone utterly sunless
they shouldn’t exist.