Factory whistles blow Dawn
From reverberant throats
Hollow and mournfully drawn
Are the answering notes
Chorused from harbor and shore
Through the fog-wreaths, and then
Cityward ceaselessly pour
Inundations of Men.
East from the Jerseys, and West
From the sea-girded plains,
South from the hills is the quest
Of the sinuous trains;
Thronged is each wave-spanning are,
And again and again
Shuttle the ferry-craft dark
With their burthen of Men.
Men! Men! Men!
Heavy-browed, eager-eyed,
Tremulous, resolute
Men.

Torrents and billows of life —
And alas for the spray!
Highway and house-top are rife
With the turbulent clay.
Men! in the rush and the stir
And the roar of the street.
Men! in the factory's whirr
And the furnace's heat.
Men! at the forges that ring
And the shuttles that fly.
Men! on the girders that swing
In the vault of the sky.
Swift through its underground lane
Like a snake to its den
Burrows the glowering train
With its burthen of Men.
Men! Men! Men!
Pitiful, glorious,
Conquering, desperate