WE only know that in the sultry weather, Men toiled for us as in the steaming room, And in our minds we hardly set together The bondman's penance and the freeman's loom. We never thought the jealous gods would store For us ill deeds of time-forgotten graves, Nor heeded that the May-Flower one day bore A freight of pilgrims, and another slaves. First on the bold upholders of the wrong, And last on us, the heavy-laden years Avenge the cruel triumphs of the strong -- Trampled affections, and derided tears. Labour, degraded from her high behest, Cries "Ye shall know I am the living breath, And not the curse of Man. Ye shall have Rest -- The rest of Famine and the rest of Death." Oh, happy distant hours! that shall restore Honour to work, and pleasure to repose, Hasten your steps, just heard above the roar Of wildering passions and the crash of foes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GERANIUMS by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE LARK ASCENDING by GEORGE MEREDITH ARMY CORRESPONDENT'S LAST RIDE; FIVE FORKS, APRIL 1, 1865 by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND THE DREAMER by HUGH FRANCIS BLUNT A SUMMER IN TUSCANY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TRITON ESURIENS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |