THE WORK SHALL FILL THE MILLS AGAIN. BY JOHN PLUMMER.
Though all is dark and dreary now,
And thousands dread the morrow;
While Labour’s pale and care-worn brow
Is clouded o’er with sorrow;
Though in the cellars dark and lone
Our famished ones are pining,
And, with a sad despairing groan,
Each dream of joy resigning: -
Yet work shall fill the mills again,
And fact’ry bells be ringing –
From every street, and court, and lane,
The anxious toilers bringing.
Though vainly for their daily bread
The toilers e’er are sighing;
Or wish that with the silent dead
Their aching forms were lying: -
Yet Peace, with laughing smiles, shall come,
And bid each worker treasure
The infant idols of his home,
And sing aloud with pleasure;
While work shall fill the mills again,
And fact’ry bells be ringing,
From every street, and court, and lane,
The anxious toilers bringing.
Each soul that wears the thorny crown
Of earthly pain and trial,
Shall kneel no more in anguish down
‘Neath Famine’s grim denial; -
But, purified, shall proudly rise
Above each old endeavour,
And learn the Right to love and prize,
And from the Wrong to sever:
When work shall fill the mills again,
And fact’ry bells be ringing,
From every street, and court, and lane,
The anxious workers bringing.
No more shall passions fierce and strong
In lowly hearts be burning;
Nor thoughts of evil ceaseless throng
To cloud each nobler yearning;
Nor class in hatred war with class,
E’er seeking vengeance blindly; -
But strive each other to surpass
In word and actions kindly, -
When work shall fill the mills again,
And fact’ry bells be ringing,
From every street, and court, and lane,
The anxious workers bringing.