Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LORDS OF LABOUR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: They come, they come, in a glorious march
Last Line: That crowneth the lords of labour.


THEY come, they come, in a glorious march,
You can hear their steam-steeds neigh,
As they dash through Skill's triumphal arch,
Or plunge 'mid the dancing spray.
Their bale-fires blaze in the mighty forge,
Their life-pulse throbs in the mill,
Their lightnings shiver the gaping gorge,
And their thunders shake the hill.
Ho! these are the Titans of toil and trade,
The heroes who wield no sabre;
But mightier conquests reapeth the blade
That is borne by the lords of labour.

Brave hearts like jewels light the sod,
Through the mists of commerce shine,
And souls flash out, like stars of God,
From the midnight of the mine.
No palace is theirs, no castle great,
No princely pillar'd hall,
But they well may laugh at the roofs of state,
'Neath the heaven which is over all.
Ho! these are the Titans of toil and trade,
The heroes who wield no sabre;
But mightier conquests reapeth the blade
Which is borne by the lords of labour.

Each bares his arm for the ringing strife
That marshals the sons of the soil,
And the sweet-drops shed in their battle of life
Are gems in the crown of Toil.
And better their well-won wreath, I trow,
Than laurels with life-blood wet;
And nobler the arch of a bare bold brow,
Than the clasp of a coronet.
Then hurrah for each hero, although his deed
Be unblown by trump or tabor,
For holier, happier far is the meed
That crowneth the lords of labour.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net