| |
| THERE’S a haunting horror near us | |
| That nothing drives away; | |
| Fierce lamping eyes at nightfall, | |
| A crouching shade by day; | |
| There’s a whining at the threshold, | 5 |
| There’s a scratching at the floor. | |
| To work! To work! In Heaven’s name! | |
| The wolf is at the door! | |
| |
| The day was long, the night was short, | |
| The bed was hard and cold; | 10 |
| Still weary are the little ones, | |
| Still weary are the old. | |
| We are weary in our cradles | |
| From our mother’s toil untold; | |
| We are born to hoarded weariness | 15 |
| As some to hoarded gold. | |
| |
| We will not rise! We will not work! | |
| Nothing the day can give | |
| Is half so sweet as an hour of sleep; | |
| Better to sleep than live! | 20 |
| What power can stir these heavy limbs? | |
| What hope these dull hearts swell? | |
| What fear more cold, what pain more sharp | |
| Than the life we know so well?… | |
| |
| The slow, relentless, padding step | 25 |
| That never goes astray— | |
| The rustle in the underbrush— | |
| The shadow in the way— | |
| The straining flight—the long pursuit— | |
| The steady gain behind— | 30 |
| Death-wearied man and tireless brute, | |
| And the struggle wild and blind! | |
| |
| There’s a hot breath at the keyhole | |
| And a tearing as of teeth! | |
| Well do I know the bloodshot eyes | 35 |
| And the dripping jaws beneath! | |
| There’s a whining at the threshold— | |
| There’s a scratching at the floor— | |
| To work! To work! In Heaven’s name! | |
| The wolf is at the door! | 40 |
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