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Robert Laurence Binyon - The Builders
Work rating: Low

Staggering slowly, and swaying
 Heavily at each slow foot`s lift and drag,
 With tense eyes careless of the roar and throng
 That under jut and jag
 Of half--built wall and scaffold stream along,
 Six bowed men straining strong
 Bear, hardly lifted, a huge lintel stone.
 This ignorant thing and prone,
 Mere dumbness, blindly weighing,
 A brute piece of blank death, a bone
 Of the stark mountain, helpless and inert,
 Yet draws each sinew till the hot veins swell
 And sweat--drops upon hand and forehead start,
 Till with short pants the suffering heart
 Throbs to the throat, where fiercely hurt
 Crushed shoulders cannot heave; till thought and sense
 Are nerved and narrowed to one aim intense,
 One effort scarce to be supported longer!
 What tyrant will in man or God were stronger
 To summon, thrall and seize
 The exaction of life`s uttermost resource
 That from the down--weighed breast and aching knees
 To arms lifted in pain
 And hands that grapple and strain
 Upsurges, thrusting desperate to repel
 The pressure and the force
 Of this, which neither feels, nor hears, nor sees?
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