'T WAS in the beginning of ages, To the make of the navvy there came Work and the lowest of wages Ever a mortal could claim, Bread, with its age for leaven, Rows, and the prison cell, Few of the gifts of heaven, And most of the vices of hell, Time, and dislike to do it, Love, for the wine when red, And a bibulous leaning to it Despite what the sages said. And the demons took in hand Moleskin, leather, and clay, Oaths embryonic and A longing for Saturday, Kneestraps and blood and flesh, A chest exceedingly stout, A soul — (which is a question open to many a doubt), And fashioned with pick and shovel, And shapened in mire and mud, With life of the road and hovel, And death of the line or hod, With fury and frenzy and fear That his strength might endure for a span From birth, through beer to bier, The link 'twixt the ape and the man. They gave him a will to strive And earn the pittance which Can barely keep him alive To slave in the dirty ditch — Poorhouse and prison they wrought, So he might enter therein When idleness fell his lot Or poverty led to sin. They have given him transient joys, They have given him space for delight, The model, its riot and noise, And night, and the fleas of the night, The jeer of the better dressed neighbour, And curses to every breath, Labour, and dodging of labour, Foreknowledge of sudden death — Foredoomed to go to the devil, He carries a swearing gift. His life is a path of evil Between a shift and a shift. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 47 by PHILIP SIDNEY YEARS OF THE MODERN by WALT WHITMAN MONICA'S LAST PRAYER by MATTHEW ARNOLD FROM POOLS OF DEEPER THOUGHT by MAUDE HARDY ARNOLD THE SONG OF THE SAVOYARDS by HENRY AMES BLOOD DREAM ENCONTERS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE SUNKEN LANE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |