 | The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton |  |
I. LABOUR.
Heart of the People! Working men!
Marrow and nerve of human powers;
Who on your sturdy back sustain
Through streaming Time this world of ours;
Hold by that title,—which proclaims,
That ye are undismayed and strong,
Accomplishing whatever aims
May to the sons of earth belong.
Marrow and nerve of human powers;
Who on your sturdy back sustain
Through streaming Time this world of ours;
Hold by that title,—which proclaims,
That ye are undismayed and strong,
Accomplishing whatever aims
May to the sons of earth belong.
Yet not on ye alone depend
These offices, or burthens fall;
Labour for some or other end
Is Lord and master of us all.
The high-born youth from downy bed
Must meet the morn with horse and hound,
While Industry for daily bread
Pursues afresh his wonted round.
These offices, or burthens fall;
Labour for some or other end
Is Lord and master of us all.
The high-born youth from downy bed
Must meet the morn with horse and hound,
While Industry for daily bread
Pursues afresh his wonted round.
190
With all his pomp of pleasure, He
Is but your working comrade now,
And shouts and winds his horn, as ye
Might whistle by the loom or plough;
In vain for him has wealth the use
Of warm repose and careless joy,—
When, as ye labour to produce,
He strives, as active to destroy.
Is but your working comrade now,
And shouts and winds his horn, as ye
Might whistle by the loom or plough;
In vain for him has wealth the use
Of warm repose and careless joy,—
When, as ye labour to produce,
He strives, as active to destroy.
But who is this with wasted frame,
Sad sign of vigour overwrought?
What toil can this new victim claim?
Pleasure, for Pleasure's sake besought.
How men would mock her flaunting shows,
Her golden promise, if they knew
What weary work she is to those
Who have no better work to do!
Sad sign of vigour overwrought?
What toil can this new victim claim?
Pleasure, for Pleasure's sake besought.
How men would mock her flaunting shows,
Her golden promise, if they knew
What weary work she is to those
Who have no better work to do!
And He who still and silent sits
In closèd room or shady nook,
And seems to nurse his idle wits
With folded arms or open book:—
To things now working in that mind,
Your children's children well may owe
Blessings that Hope has ne'er defined
Till from his busy thoughts they flow.
In closèd room or shady nook,
And seems to nurse his idle wits
With folded arms or open book:—
To things now working in that mind,
Your children's children well may owe
Blessings that Hope has ne'er defined
Till from his busy thoughts they flow.
191
Thus all must work—with head or hand,
For self or others, good or ill;
Life is ordained to bear, like land,
Some fruit, be fallow as it will:
Evil has force itself to sow
Where we deny the healthy seed,—
And all our choice is this,—to grow
Pasture and grain or noisome weed.
For self or others, good or ill;
Life is ordained to bear, like land,
Some fruit, be fallow as it will:
Evil has force itself to sow
Where we deny the healthy seed,—
And all our choice is this,—to grow
Pasture and grain or noisome weed.
Then in content possess your hearts,
Unenvious of each other's lot,—
For those which seem the easiest parts
Have travail which ye reckon not:
And He is bravest, happiest, best,
Who, from the task within his span,
Earns for himself his evening rest
And an increase of good for man.
Unenvious of each other's lot,—
For those which seem the easiest parts
Have travail which ye reckon not:
And He is bravest, happiest, best,
Who, from the task within his span,
Earns for himself his evening rest
And an increase of good for man.
| The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton | |