Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO LABOR, by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE



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TO LABOR, by            
First Line: O ye who toil at forges!
Last Line: Which rightly is your own.
Subject(s): Factories; Labor & Laborers; Work; Workers


O YE who toil at forges!
Or in the factories stand,
Ye are the blood and muscle
Of every mighty land.

Upon your vast endeavor
The thrones of greatness rest,
'T is only by your struggles
A nation's name is blest.

What though your lives be troubled,
And yours laborious days,
The glory of a people
Shall be your meed of praise.

Out of the endless working,
Though shrouded seems the goal,
Shall come the angel Progress,
Advancement of the Whole.

O ye who toil at forges
Whose thunder drowns your moan,
Ye yet shall reap the harvest
Which rightly is your own.





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