Classic Poem

Whence are you coming? Whither are you going?—
Feet like marching thunder, hearts like leaping flame—
Whither are you going? Harvesting or sowing?
Do you follow glory? Do you flee from shame?
Is your quest for love or rest, righteousness or fame?

Whither are you going, like a tempest blowing,
Tossing in a yellow foam the mountain daffodils?
Whither are you going, like a river flowing
From immortal fountains in eternal hills—
You with your tempestuous passions, and insurgent wills?

Whither are you going? Whither are you faring,
Like long leagues of billows lifted by the tide,—
Hearts so full of hoping, hopes so full of daring—
Are you moved by pity, are you spurred by pride,—
All you eager men and women marching side by side?

Dockers we and sailors, carpenters and hewers,
Delvers in the meadows, diggers in the mud,
Engineers, inventors, pioneers, and doers,
Miners of the mountains, bridgers of the flood,
We have built your mighty empire on our flesh and blood.

Poets we and painters, singers, thinkers, dreamers,—
Dreams and hopes and visions, to the stars unfurled—
We are the rejected, crucified redeemers,
We are the arisen trampled-and-down-hurled,
We are the divine, immortal failures of the world!

Come have we to-day, from mountain, voe, and valley,
Come have we from meadow, forest-land, and dale,
Shieling, barn, and bothy, street, and square, and alley,
Bench, and loom, and furnace, varsity, and jail,—
Come to fight for truth and right, till truth and right prevail.

No desire of conquest lurks in our ambition,
Empty seem your honours, and your riches dross,
For we have beholden, in a heavenly vision,
Love and Grace and Beauty hanging on a cross,
And have learned that worldly gain may be eternal loss.

Wealth and power and glory are not worth the winning.
Have we not as heritage all this goodly earth—
This round, splendid planet through the heavens spinning,
Where the hills and oceans, man and God had birth,
Where there wait for all mankind, love, and peace, and mirth?

Therefore we are hoping, dreaming, building, weaving,
Hark the clashing hammer! Hark the clicking loom!
Hark the pistons thudding! Hark the axes cleaving!
See the dreams like banners gleaming in the gloom!
As we mortal workers fashion fair immortal dooms.

Pick, and spade, and spindle, forge and fire impassioned,
Dream, and prayer, and vision, mallet, brush, and pen;
All that we have blindly, blunderingly fashioned,
Mould will we to beauty, make will we again,
Building up a better world for better, happier men.

We have toiled and striven. Now our bonds are riven,
Claim we now our heritage in earth and sky and air;
Claim we all the Beauty God to us has given,
Still, as brothers living, would as brothers share
All the joys of human life, all things good and fair.

See, the sun is shining! See, the lark is soaring!
Where is cause for hatred, where excuse for wrong?
Here is place for loving, working, and adoring;
All the seas and mountains unto us belong—
All Earth's love, and truth, and beauty, all its joy and song.

And behind the veil there waits life's final meaning,
Harmony resolving clashing note and chord.
There will be the harvest and the final gleaning,
When the weary workers win for their reward,
Love and peace and beauty in the Presence of the Lord.

Therefore we are flowing like a mighty river,
Dancing from the mountains, singing as it flows;
Therefore we are going, going to deliver,
All our sons and daughters from their ancient woes,
Giving freedom to our friends, friendship to our foes.

Therefore we are going like a river flowing,
Feet like marching thunder, hearts like leaping flame;
Therefore we are going harvesting and sowing,
Fear our only failure, sin our only shame,
Love, and truth, and peace our glory, righteousness our fame.