Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/124

XIX.

      Turned their gaze,
Earnest and pitiful, on the ways
Where the poor, burdened sons of toil
Earned their bread amid dust and moil.
Saw the dim attics where, day by day,
Women were stitching their lives away,
Bending low o'er the slender steel
Till heart and brain began to reel,
      And their days
Stretched on and on in a dreary maze.

XX.

      Then he spoke;
Lo! at once into being woke
Muscles of iron, arms of steel,
Nerves that never a thrill could feel!
Wheels and pulleys and whirling bands
Did the work of the weary hands,
And tireless feet moved to and fro
Where the aching limbs were wont to go,
      When he spoke
And all his sprites into being woke.

XXI.

      Do you say
He was no saint who has passed away?
Saint or sinner, he did brave deeds
Answering still to humanity's needs!
Songs he hath sung that shall live for aye;
Words he hath uttered that ne'er shall die;