Oh, glorious are the guarded heights
Where guardian souls abide,
Self-exiled from our gross delights,
Above, beyond, outside:
An ampler arc their spirit swings,
Commands a juster view,
We have their word for all these things,
No doubt their words are true.
Yet we, the bond slaves of our day,
Whom dirt and danger press,
Co-heirs of insolence, delay,
And leagued unfaithfulness,
Such is our need must seek indeed
And, having found, engage
The men who merely do the work
For which they draw the wage.
From forge and farm and mine and bench,
Deck, altar, outpost lone,
Mill, school, battalion, counter, trench,
Rail, senate, sheepfold, throne,
Creation's cry goes up on high
From age to cheated age:
"Send us the men who do the wo...