Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Light for All

Light for All

From the German.

You cannot pay with money
The million sons of toil—
The sailor on the ocean,
The peasant on the soil,
The labourer in the quarry,
The hewer of the coal;
Your money pays the hand,
But it cannot pay the soul.

You gaze on the cathedral,
Whose turrets meet the sky;
Remember the foundations
That in earth and darkness lie:
For, were not those foundations
So darkly resting there,
You towers up could never soar
So proudly in the air.

The workshop must be crowded
That the palace may be bright:
If the ploughman did not plough,
Then the poet could not write.
Then let every toil be hallowed
That man performs for man,
And have its share of honour
As part of one great plan.

See light darts down from heaven,
And enters where it may;
The eyes of all earth's people
Are cheered with one bright day;
And let the mind's true sunshine
Be spread o'er earth as free,
And fill the souls of men
As the waters fill the sea.

The man who turns the soil
Need not have an earthly mind;
The digger 'mid the coal
Need not be in spirit blind:
The mind can shed a light
On each worthy labour done,
As lowliest things are bright
In the radiance of the sun.

What cheers the musing student,
The poet, the divine,—
The thought that for his followers
A brighter day will shine.
Let every human labourer
Enjoy the vision bright—
Let the thought that comes from heaven
Be spread like heaven's own light!

Ye men who hold the pen,
Rise like a band inspired,
And, poets, let your lyrics
With hope for man be fired;
Till the earth becomes a temple,
And every human heart
Shall join in one great service,
Each happy in his part.