THE MUSIC OF LABOUR.

The banging of the hammer,
The whirling of the plane,
The crashing of the busy saw,
The creaking of the crane.
The ringing of the anvil,
The grating of the drill.
The clattering of the turning lathe,
The whirring of the mill.
The buzzing of the spindle,
The rattling of the loom,
The puffing of the engine,
The fan’s continuous boom.
The clipping of the tailor’s shears.
The driving of the awl –
These sound of honest industry
I love – I love them all.

The clicking of the magic type.
The earnest talk of men,
The toiling of the giant press,
The scratching of the pen,
The tapping of the yard stick,
The tinkling of the scales.
The whistling of the needle
(When no bright cheek it pales)
the humming of the cooking stove,
the surging of the broom,
the pattering feet of childhood.
The housewife’s busy hum,
The bussing of the scholars,
The teacher’s kindly call –
These sound of active industry
I love – I love them all.

I love the ploughman’s whistle,
The reaper’s cheerful song.
The drover’s oft-repeated shout
Spurring his stock along;
The bustle of the market man
As he hies* him to the town;
The halloa from the tree-top,
As the ripened fruit comes down;
The busy sound of threshers,
The clean the ripened grain;
The husker’s joke and catch of glee
‘Neath the moonlight on the plain;
the kind voice of the herdsman
the shepherd’s gentle call –
these sounds of pleasant industry
I love – I love them all.

And sweeter sleep at night;
A good that bringeth pleasure,
Even to the toiling hours;
For duty cheers the spirit,
As dew revives the flowers.
Then say not that Jehovah
Gave labour as a doom;
No! – ‘tis the richest mercy
From the cradle to the tomb.
Then let us still be doing,
Whate’er we find to do.
With a cheerful – hopeful spirit,
And free hand, strong and true.

hies = To go quickly; hasten