To All Mind-Full Laborers

O white-sleeved man of labor, whose desk is lined
For life with pen and print and plan;
O handy-man of thought, whose plumbing mind
Gives pencilled callouses to etching hand;
O dreamy man productive, whose daring end
Your driving love how thoroughly pursues;
O man whole-bodied, soul-full, keen, unbent,
Who skips behind your thoughts in ones and twos,
Stacking radiant manly temples worldly true,
This Labor day’s for you!

O spirit shaping metal with clamped fingertips of steel;
O judgment sawing trees with rigid shoulders, back;
Wild first ideas, freed, scribbled into real,
Thirsting clay-site clasped, palms wet, moulding what it lacks;
O muscles lifting paper to its place in the machine,
O muscles tapping pen to the heat of logic’s fire,
O tendons holding tension as you focus in and think,
O Bone, O Flesh, O Blood, O Bodied Mind’s Desire,
Sweet-spanning manly earth with worldly “I can do!”
This Labor Day’s for you!

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