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• 1 2016-11-11T13:35:01-05:00 Joy in the Woods 6 Workers Dreadnought, April 10, 1920 plain 2017-06-23T12:33:28-04:00 1920 Labor, Class, Slavery, Nature, Summer, Season
  
  There is joy in the woods just now,
     The leaves are whispers of song,
  And the birds make mirth on the bough
     And music the whole day long.
  And God! To dwell in the town
     In these springlike summer days,
  On my brow an unfading frown
     And hate in my heart always—
  
  A machine out of gear, aye, tired,
  Yet forced to go on—for I’m hired.
  
  Just forced to go on through fear,
     For every day I must eat
  And find ugly clothes to wear,
     And bad shoes to hurt my feet
  And a shelter for work-drugged sleep!
     A mere drudge! but what can one do?
  A man that’s a man cannot weep!
     Suicide? A quitter? Oh, no!
  But a slave should never grow tired,
     Whom the masters have kindly hired.
  But oh! For the woods, the flowers
     Of natural, sweet perfume,
  The heartening, summer shows
     And the smiling shrubs in bloom,
  Dust-free, dew-tinted at morn,
     The fresh and life-giving air,
  The billowing waves of corn
     And the birds’ notes rich and clear: —
  
  For a man-machine toil-tired
  May crave beauty too—though he’s hired.
  
  --Workers Dreadnought, April 10, 1920. Signed as "Hugh Hope"
  (Edited and Proofread by Amardeep Singh)