Classic Poem

Forth from the quarry drag the largest stone,
And bid the sculptor grave his name, his deed,
So that each village babe may grow to read—
Each grandsire tell—each father show his son,
And let these simple words be writ thereon—
“A stone fell rail-wards, and he knew the need,
He recked not of the engine's roaring speed,
But for a hundred lives he gave his one.

“Honour the man whom love and labour brought
To live so well he could so nobly die!
In the hard school of ‘drill and hammer’ taught,
He helped his brothers' hand continually,
When duty called he dashed aside the thought
Of self—left pick, left barrow, leapt to die.”