The Pavement Stones :A Song of the Unemployed

WHEN first I came to town, resolved
  To fight my way alone,
No prouder foot than mine e’er trod
  Upon the pavement stone;
But I am one in thousands,
  And why should I repine?
The pavement stones have broken springs
  In stronger feet than mine.

I brought to aid me all the hope
  And energy of youth;
And in my heart I felt the strength
  Of plain bucolic truth:
The independence nourished
  Amid the hills and trees—
But, ah! the city hath a cure
  For qualities like these.

I wonder oft how e’er I made
  The efforts that I made,
For after three long weary years
  I taught myself a trade.
And two more years and I was free
  With strength and hope elate,
For “he that hath a trade,” they say,
  “Hath also an estate.”

I tramped the streets and looked for work
  And begged for work in vain,
Until I recked not, though I ne’er
  Might touch my tools again.
I tramped the streets despairing;
  My cheeks grew white and thin;
I felt the pavement wearing through
  The leather, sock, and skin.

The bitter war goes on between
  The idlers and the drones,
Until the hearts of men grow cold
  And hard as pavement stones;
But I am one amid the crowd,
  Then why should I repine?
The pavement stones have broken springs
  In stronger feet than mine.