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346 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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W. D. GALLAGHER
{Living.)
THE LABORER
S
TAND up—erect! Thou hast the form, And likeness of thy God ! who more ? A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm Of daily life—a heart as warm And pure, as breast e'er wore.
What then ? Thou art as true a man As moves the human mass among;
As much a part of the great plan
That with creation's dawn began As any of the throng.
Who is thine enemy ? The high In station, or in wealth the chief
The great, who coldly pass thee by,
With proud step and averted eye ? Nay ! nurse not such belief.
If true unto thyself thou wast,
What were the proud one's scorn to thee ? A feather, which thou mightest cast Aside as idly as the blast
The light leaf from the tree.
No :—uncurb'd passions, low desires, Absence of noble self-respect, — |
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