Not in the dream of yesterday is found
Substructure of the world that is to be;
The pit was digged by no lone poet's plea,
Nor did the blood of martyrs break the ground.
Fear not! they shall be well-confessed and crowned
Who played the prophets' part; yet shall men see
The work was our humanity's, and we
Are all together in the building bound.
All life was in that quickening of the hand
Which from the club wrought on to the machine;
The airy uplift of the lumbering feet
To argosies which all the heavens command;
The few as nothing, to the myriad mean
In whom man's vast adventure is complete.