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 | An idyl of work |  |
Next morning's sun rose on a silent town.
The swollen river noiselessly moved past
The quiet mills,—less river now than lake.
In the red dawn the drowsy girls awoke
To the bell's usual clang, that summoned them
From dreams to labor. At the stroke of five
All laggards saw the gates against them swing.
To-day, however, the great working-crowd
Surged in and out awhile; free passage left
For those who stayed to rub the steel-work bright,
Or clean the dangerous wheels while they stood still.
The swollen river noiselessly moved past
The quiet mills,—less river now than lake.
In the red dawn the drowsy girls awoke
To the bell's usual clang, that summoned them
From dreams to labor. At the stroke of five
All laggards saw the gates against them swing.
To-day, however, the great working-crowd
Surged in and out awhile; free passage left
For those who stayed to rub the steel-work bright,
Or clean the dangerous wheels while they stood still.
| An idyl of work | |