Upton Sinclair, ed. (1878–1968).
The Cry for Justice: An Anthology of the Literature of Social Protest. 1915. | | | The Song of the Wage Slave
(From “The Spell of the Yukon”) |
By Robert W. Service |
(Canadian poet, born 1876. His poems of Alaska and the great Northwest have attained wide popularity) |
| | | WHEN the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay, | |
| I hope that it won’t be hell-fire, as some of the parsons say. | |
| And I hope that it won’t be heaven, with some of the parsons I’ve met— | |
| All I want is just quiet, just to rest and forget. | |
| Look at my face, toil-furrowed; look at my calloused hands; | 5 |
| Master, I’ve done Thy bidding, wrought in Thy many lands— | |
| Wrought for the little masters, big-bellied they be, and rich; | |
| I’ve done their desire for a daily hire, and I die like a dog in a ditch.… | |
| I, the primitive toiler, half naked and grimed to the eyes, | |
| Sweating it deep in their ditches, swining it stark in their styes; | 10 |
| Hurling down forests before me, spanning tumultuous streams; | |
| Down in the ditch building o’er me palaces fairer than dreams; | |
| Boring the rock to the ore-bed, driving the road through the fen, | |
| Resolute, dumb, uncomplaining, a man in a world of men. | |
| Master, I’ve filled my contract, wrought in Thy many lands; | 15 |
| Not by my sins wilt Thou judge me, but by the work of my hands. | |
| Master, I’ve done Thy bidding, and the light is low in the west, | |
| And the long, long shift is over.… Master, I’ve earned it—Rest. | | | | |
|
|
