THE TOWER OF TOIL
(LA TOUR DE TRAVAIL)
HE old sun rolls; the old earth spins;
Incessant labour bends the stars.
Hath not enough of woes and sins —
Passed? Who shall efface their senseless scars?
One makes, one mars. The aeons foil
All purpose; rise, O Tower of Toil.
Rise in thy radiance to proclaim
The agony of the earth alive!
Stand by the sea, a marble flame,
A lighthouse wedded to an hive!
Still upward strive! O tower, arise
An endless spiral to the skies!
Stand on the weather-beaten coast
A flaming angel in the noon;
A silver, fascinated ghost
In midnight’s revel with the moon;
In silent swoon be still! the spoil
Of years is thine, O Tower of Toil.
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