The Man under the Stone
The Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems
When I see a workingman with mouths to feed,Up, day after day, in the dark before the dawn,And coming home, night after night, through the dusk,Swinging forward like some fierce silent animal,I see a man doomed to roll a huge stone up an endless steep.He strains it onward inch by stubborn inch,Crouched always in the shadow of the rock....See where he crouches, twisted, cramped, misshapen!He lifts for their life;The veins knot and darken—Blood surges into his face....Now he loses—now he wins—Now he loses—loses—(God of my soul!)He digs his feet into the earth—There's a moment of terrified effort....Will the huge stone break his hold,And crush him as it plunges to the gulf?
The silent struggle goes on and on,Like two contending in a dream.