LABORARE est orare: We, black-visaged sons of toil, From the coal-mine and the anvil And the delving of the soil, -- From the loom, the wharf, the warehouse, And the ever-whirling mill, Out of grim and hungry silence Raise a weak voice small and shrill; -- Laborare est orare: Man, dost hear us? God, He will. We, who just can keep from starving Sickly wives, -- not always mild: Trying not to curse Heaven's bounty When it sends another child, -- We who, worn-out, doze on Sundays O'er the Book we strive to read, Cannot understand the parson Or the catechism and creed. Laborare est orare: -- Then, good sooth, we pray indeed. We, poor women, feeble-natured, Large of heart, in wisdom small, Who the world's incessant battle Cannot understand at all, All the mysteries of the churches, All the troubles of the state, -- Whom child-smiles teach "God is loving," And child-coffins, "God is great": Laborare est orare: -- We too at His footstool wait. Laborare est orare; Hear it, ye of spirit poor, Who sit crouching at the threshold While your brethren force the door; Ye whose ignorance stands wringing Rough hands, scamed with toil, nor dares Lift so much as eyes to Heaven, -- Lo! all life this truth declares, Laborare est orare; And the whole earth rings with prayers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME by AMY LOWELL RUINES OF ROME by JOACHIM DU BELLAY WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ENVOY: 5. TO MY NAME-CHILD by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A PRAYER, LIVING AND DYING by AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY THE MAYFLOWERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ARIZONA SUMMER by ELEANOR BALDWIN |