CHAPTER III 



In the rustle of the cornfields, 



And the plowman's weary tread, 

 And the fingers of the tassels 



Raised beseechingly o'erhead — 

 In them all a thousand voices 



Whisper in the listening ear, 

 "Toil will ne'er possess its products 



Until Equity is here." 



In the broad and waving wheatfields, 



A million heads may bow, 

 And in sunlight gold may glitter, 



Promised fruitage of the plow ; 

 Still the passing breezes whisper 



In the anxious listening ear, 

 "Toil's just reward will linger 



Until Equity is here." 



So with orchard's blushing treasure, 



And with meadow's wealth of hay, 

 And the lowing in the pastures, 



And the garden's rich array — 

 All proclaim the same sad warning, 



Toil in vain will seek its own, 

 For each season's stores will vanish 



Until Equity shall come. 



We thus have the three powers — money power, 

 organized labor, and the farmer. And the question 

 is as to the necessity of making the third power a 

 real power. Let us consider first the relation of 



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