Classic Poem

When morning's chilly grayness
First glimmers in the sky,
I hear their whistled gayness,
I see them frayward hie.
From humble street and alley,
In garb of every trade,
The sturdy heroes sally
Of the dinner-pail brigade.

Strong-limbed and gallant yeomen,
Brown-cheeked and fearless-eyed —
The whole wide world has no men
So worthy of its pride.
The gilded sons of Pleasure,
And sloths of every grade,
Are but earth's trash; her treasure
Is the dinner-pail brigade.

They conquer nature's wildness,
Her mood of rock and thorn,
Until, in fruitful mildness,
She yields us wine and corn.
And where the wild beast haunted
They plant the roof-tree's shade —
The pioneers undaunted
Of the dinner-pail brigade.

The land their cities cover —
Hives both for drones and bees;
Their white sails flit and hover
O'er all the merry seas;
They delve where darkly hidden
The ages' hoards are laid;
Earth has no wealth forbidden
To the dinner-pail brigade.

O weary, patient brothers,
This is Time's greatest sin,
That you should drudge for others,
Should build and not go in;
That thieves should claim the plenty
Which God for all has made,
And dole out pittance scanty
To the dinner-pail brigade.

Cheer, brothers, cheer, for plainly
Dawn blushes in the sky;
Those who have long prayed vainly
Shall learn a battle-cry.
Hold out a little longer:
The few shall wax afraid,
Seeing they are not stronger
Than the dinner-pail brigade.

For, as the day shines clearer,
We see with wiser eyes;
Despised worths seem dearer,
And men look all one size;
Old values wax romantic,
Kings and their creatures fade,
While looms each form gigantic
In the dinner-pail brigade!