William Morris

“ E’en the tidings we are telling was the tale they had to tell,
E’en the hope that our hearts cherish, was the hope for which they fell.
In the grave where tyrants thrust them, lies their labour and their pain,
But undying from their sorrow springeth up the hope again.
Mourn not therefore, nor lament it that the world outlives their life;
Voice and vision yet they give us, making strong our hands for strife.
Some had name, and fame, and honour, learn’d they were, and wise and strong;
Some were nameless, poor, unlettered, weak in all but grief and wrong.
Named and nameless all live in us ”

“ Where our mirth is crime, our love a snare
Who now shall lead us, what god shall heed us
As we lie in the hell our hands have won
For us are no rulers but fools and befoolers,
The great are fallen, the wise men gone
p. 7I heard men saying, Leave tears and praying,
The sharp knife heedeth not the sheep;
Are we not stronger than the rich and the wronger,
When day breaks over dreams and sleep?
Come, shoulder to shoulder ere the world grows older!
Help lies in nought but thee and me;
Hope is before us, the long years that bore us,
Bore leaders more than men may be. ”

“ It is right and necessary that all men should have work to do which shall be worth doing, and be of itself pleasant to do; and which should be done under such conditions as would make it neither over-wearisome nor over-anxious.
Turn that claim about as I may, think of it as long as I can, I cannot find that it is an exorbitant claim; yet again I say if Society would or could admit it, the face of the world would be changed; discontent and strife and dishonesty would be ended. ”

“ For ourselves and for each of our fellows, and no hand shall labour in vain.
Then all mine and all thine shall be ours, and no more shall any man crave
For riches that serve for nothing but to fetter a friend for a slave. ”

“ For all these shall be ours and all men’s, nor shall any lack a share
Of the toil and the gain of living in the days when the world grows fair.
Ah! such are the days that shall be! But what are the deeds of to-day,
In the days of the years we dwell in, that wear our lives away? ”

“ Never tidings reached their sorrow, never hope their toil might find.
Now at last they’ve heard and hear it, and the cry comes down the wind,
And their feet are marching on.
O ye rich men hear and tremble! for with words the sound is rife:
“Once for you and death we laboured; changed henceforward is the strife.
We are men, and we shall battle for the world of men and life ”