Labor and the Angel

by Duncan Campbell Scott

STONE BREAKING.

March wind rough

Clashed the trees,

Flung the snow;

Breaking stones,

In the cold,

Germans slow

Toiled and toiled;

Arrowy sun

Glanced and sprang,

One right blithe

German sang:

Songs of home,

Fatherland:

Syenite hard,

Weary lot,

Callous hand,

All forgot:

Hammers pound,

Ringing round;

Rise the heaps,

To his voice,

Bounds and leaps

Toise on toise:

Toil is long,

But dear God

Gives us song,

At the end,

Gives us rest,

Toil is best.