Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume I. Of Home: of Friendship. 1904. | | | | Poems of Home: V. The Home | | Labor Song | | Denis Florence Mac Carthy (1817–1882) |
| | From “The Bell-Founder”
AH! little they know of true happiness, they whom satiety fills, | |
| Who, flung on the rich breast of luxury, eat of the rankness that kills. | |
| Ah! little they know of the blessedness toil-purchased slumber enjoys | |
| Who, stretched on the hard rack of indolence, taste of the sleep that destroys: | |
| Nothing to hope for, or labor for; nothing to sigh for, or gain; | 5 |
| Nothing to light in its vividness, lightning-like, bosom and brain; | |
| Nothing to break life’s monotony, rippling it o’er with its breath;— | |
| Nothing but dulness and lethargy, weariness, sorrow, and death! | |
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| But blessèd that child of humanity, happiest man among men, | |
| Who, with hammer or chisel or pencil, with rudder or ploughshare or pen, | 10 |
| Laboreth ever and ever with hope through the morning of life, | |
| Winning home and its darling divinities,—love-worshipped children and wife. | |
| Round swings the hammer of industry, quickly the sharp chisel rings, | |
| And the heart of the toiler has throbbings that stir not the bosom of kings,— | |
| He the true ruler and conqueror, he the true king of his race, | 15 |
| Who nerveth his arm for life’s combat, and looks the strong world in the face. | | | | |
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