Classic Poem

Burrow, burrow, like the mole,
Ye who shape the columned caves!
Ye are black with clinging coal,
Black as fiery Afric's slaves!
Sink the shadowy shaft afar
Deep into our native star!
Rend her iron ribs apart,
Where her hidden treasures are,
Nestled near her burning heart!
Dig, nor think how forests grow
Above your heads — how waters flow
Responsive to the song of birds —
How blossoms paint in silent words
What hearts may feel but cannot know!
Dig ye, where no day is seen;
Vassals in the train of Night,
Build the chambers for your Queen,
Where with starless locks she lies,
Robbed of all her bright disguise!
There no precious dews alight,
None but what the cavern weeps,
Down its scarred and dusky face!
There's no bird in all the place;
Not a simple flower ye mark,
Not a shrub or vine that creeps
Through the long, long Lapland dark!
Burrow, burrow, like the mole,
Dark of face, but bright of soul!
Labour is not mean or low!
Ye achieve, with every blow,
Something higher than ye know!
Though your sight may not extend
Through your labours to the end,
Every honest stroke ye give,
Every peril that ye brave
In the dark and dangerous cave,
In some future good shall live!