| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Song of the Mechanics | | By George W. Priest |
| | | STILLED for a moment be jester’s lay, and the piping notes of Pan, | |
| ’Mid your mellow music we high essay to sing a song of Man: | |
| Short be its phrases, as short our speech who fashion the mill and loom, | |
| If the work of our hands not better teach, then give a Man-song room. | |
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| When the hammers their thunderous din renew, by the roaring of furnace fires, | 5 |
| We see the forging of dreams come true, the shaping of long desires. | |
| The walls of Progress we carry high, though stained by crime and blood; | |
| For your wondrous beauty and joy we die, O coming Brotherhood. | |
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| Then drink to labor an honest cup and let its worth be known! | |
| The ghosts of the past come trooping up bearing the brick and stone; | 10 |
| Dig they the trenches broad and deep, and shape foundations strong, | |
| Whose good the future years may keep when coming builders throng. | |
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| The savage strives for his home, his brood, he fends for his race, his kin; | |
| The workman toils for the common good that takes the whole world in. | |
| Not only for dollars, which mean but bread and refuge from rain and snow, | 15 |
| But that peace may prosper, of war instead; for the Master willed it so. | |
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| A Workman spread the heavens wide, a Workman placed the sun: | |
| A Master Workman was satisfied when the Maker said, “Well done.” | |
| Take we no shame if we be but tools, clumsy and dull and worn, | |
| If over us infinite justice rules to mould the years unborn. | 20 | | | |
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