The tongues of toil, and other poems — Reading Notes
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The opening poem, 'The Tongues of Toil,' establishes a collective, defiant speaker—'We are the men of sinewed hands'—that recurs throughout the collection. Barnard uses direct address ('Do you hear the call') and anaphora ('We rise, we rise') to create a sense of unstoppable momentum. The poem's structure, with its alternating long and short lines, mirrors the rhythm of marching or labor, while the refrain 'Hark to the tongues of toil!' functions as both a command and a rallying cry.
Subsequent poems narrow the focus: 'The Hangman' shifts to a grim, repetitive catalog of blood imagery ('dyed with blood,' 'clotted blood,' 'gory red'), while 'The Agitator' introduces a more measured, expository voice, describing a lone figure who 'takes his stand' and 'pictures clear corruption's crafty course.' This range—from mass movement to individual witness—shapes the collection's narrative arc.
Collective Voice and Direct Address
Barnard consistently employs a first-person plural speaker that claims authority through labor: 'We are the hoards that made you lords.' This collective 'we' is not passive but active—'We come, we come, with the force of fate'—and it directly challenges a 'you' of masters and rulers. The effect is confrontational, as in 'To the Masters' and 'To the Enemies of Free Speech,' where the poems become open letters of accusation. The repeated use of imperatives ('Yield, then, yield') and rhetorical questions ('Who would not all for thy promise give?') reinforces the sense of an urgent, public address. Even in quieter poems like 'The Agitator,' the speaker remains a representative figure: 'A true son of the soil, / And feeling, as the hard-pressed masses feel.' This consistent voice unifies the collection, making each poem feel like a chapter in a larger declaration.
Imagery of Blood, Gold, and the Body
Physicality dominates Barnard's imagery. In 'The Hangman,' blood is everywhere—'His clothes, his board, his bed'—and it stains even money: 'the coins that are paid for human breath.' This visceral language extends to the body in 'The Children of the Looms' and 'The Hymn of Labor,' where hands, sinews, and brains are both tools and victims. The poem 'Magdalene Passes' likely continues this pattern, though the excerpt is truncated. Barnard often contrasts the 'sinewed hands' of workers with the 'gold and steel' of capital, creating a stark binary between living flesh and dead metal. This imagery is not merely decorative; it grounds abstract political arguments in tangible, often painful, physical experience. The repeated word 'blood' across multiple poems ties the collection together, suggesting a shared sacrifice that demands reckoning.
Shifts in Pace and Structure
The poems vary markedly in meter and stanza length, reflecting changes in rhetorical intensity. 'The Tongues of Toil' uses a driving, irregular meter with short lines ('We rise, we rise') that accelerate into longer, declarative statements. In contrast, 'The Agitator' adopts a more deliberate, almost syllogistic structure: each stanza begins with a noun phrase ('The deep philosopher,' 'The pedant wise') and then elaborates. This shift from incantation to exposition mirrors the agitator's method—'He sets forth what he sees / So simply that who hears can comprehend.' The collection also includes shorter, more lyrical pieces like 'The Red Flag,' which uses apostrophe and a slower, more reflective pace. These structural variations prevent monotony and allow Barnard to modulate between collective fury and individual reflection, giving the volume a dynamic, almost dramatic rhythm.
Readers will find that Barnard's poems reward attention to their formal choices—the way he varies line length, repeats key words, and shifts between first-person plural and third-person observation. The collection is best approached not as a sequence of separate pieces but as a sustained argument, where each poem contributes a different angle on the same central conflict. Noting how the voice changes from poem to poem can reveal the subtlety beneath the apparent directness of the rhetoric.
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