The Muse of Labor

And I saw a New Heaven and a New Earth.—St. John.

I come, O heroes, to the world gone wrong;

I bring the hope of nations; and I bear

The warm first rush of rapture in my song,

The faint first light of morning on my hair.

I look upon the ages from a tower;

I am the Muse of the Fraternal State;

No hand can hold me from my crowning hour;

My song is Freedom and my step is Fate.

The toilers go on broken at the heart;

They send the spell of beauty on all lands;

But what avail? the builders have no part—

No share in all the glory of their hands.

I have descended from Alcyone;

I am the muse of Labor and of Mirth;

61I come to break the chain of infamy,

That Greed’s blind hammers forge about the earth.

I have descended from the Hidden Place,

To make dumb spirits speak and dead feet start:

I feel the wind of battles in my face,

I hear the song of nations in my heart.

I stand by Him, the Hero of the Cross,

To hurl down traitors that misspend His bread;

I touch the star of mystery and loss

To shake the kingdoms of the living dead.

I wear the flower of Christus for a crown;

I poise the suns and give to each a name;

And through the hushed Eternity bend down

To strengthen gods and keep their souls from blame.

62I come to overthrow the ancient wrong,

To let the joy of nations rise again;

I am Unselfish Service, I am Song,

I am the Hope that feeds the hearts of men.

I am the Vision in the world-eclipse,

And where I pass the feet of Beauty burn;

And when I set the bugle to my lips,

The youth of work-worn races will return.

I am Religion and the church I build,

Stands on the sacred flesh with passion packed;

In me the ancient gospels are fulfilled—

In me the symbol rises into Fact.

I am the maker of the People’s bread,

I bear the little burdens of the day;

Yet in the Mystery of Song I tread

The endless heavens and show the stars their way.

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