Where the needle-woman toils <br />Through the night with hand and brain, <br />Till the sickly daylight shudders like a spectre at the pain – <br />Till her eyes seem to crawl, <br />And her brain seems to creep – <br /> <br />And her limbs are all a-tremble for the want of rest and sleep! <br />It is there the fire-brand blazes in my blood; and it is there <br />That I see the crimson banner of the Children of Despair! <br />That I feel the soul and music in a rebel's battle song, <br />And the greatest love for justice and the hottest hate for wrong! <br /> <br />When the foremost in his greed <br />Presses heavy on the last – <br />In the brutal spirit rising from the grave-yard of the past – <br />Where the poor are trodden down <br />And the rich are deaf and blind! <br /> <br />It is there I feel the greatest love and pity for mankind: <br />There – where heart to heart is saying, though the tongue and lip be still: <br />We've been through it all and know it! brother, we've been through the mill! <br />There the spirits of my brothers rise the higher for defeat, <br />And the drums of revolution roll for ever in the street! <br /> <br />Christ is coming once again, <br />And his day is drawing near; <br />He is leading on the thousands of the army of the rear! <br />We shall know the second advent <br />By the lower skies aflame <br /> <br />With the signals of his coming, for he comes not as he came – <br />Not humble, meek, and lowly, as he came in days of old, <br />But with hatred, retribution for the worshippers of gold! <br />And the roll of battle music and the steady tramp of feet <br />Sound for ever in the thunder and the rattle of the street!<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-street/
