Poetry: Labor

We thnnk the author of the followinjj for lier epirited lines. In a note nccompauying tbem dle says they we-e 8iiggested bv the incident of an industrious woud sawyer's reply to a mxn who lolcl turn hls work was hnrd; - Yá, it i.shard, to be sure, bul it is harder to do noihing,' waa his answer. - Middlestx Standard. LABOR. BT CAROLINK V. ORNR. Ho, yr who at the unvil toil, And sirikn the eonnding blow, Wliere from the burninr iroii'a breast The spnrks fly to nijd l'ro, While nnswering to the hiwnmer's ring, And firo's intenser glow, - Oh, while ye teel 'tis Imrd to toil Andsweat the long doy tluough, Remember it is haider still Tu have no work lo do. IIo, ye who lili ihe stubbom coil, Wliose hard hnnds guid1 the plough, Who bcnd ber.eutli the snmmer Bun, Witl burniiijr cheek ond brow; Ye deern the cu.-se still cling to earth From olden time till now, But while ye feel 'tis hard to toil And labor all day through, Remember it is Imrder still To have no work todo. Ho, ye who plough the se.i's blue field- Who ride the reslleas wavo, Beneath wjiose gallant vessel 6 keel Tlif're is a yawíimg graVr', Around whose barque ihe intry winds Like fif?'d oflury ravc - Oh, VVhilf ye. teel 'tis hard to toil And Inhor Ion;: hours ihrough, Reincmber it s hnrder still Tu have no work lo do. Ho, ye, u pon whose fevered choeks The hectic giow is briht, Whose mental toil wears out the day And half the wcary night, Who labor for the sutil-s of men, Chnmptons of truih and riaht, Althongh ye feel yotir toil s hiirdj Even wit! this glorious view Remoniber it is hnrder sti 11 To have no work to do. Ho, all who labor - all who etrivei - Ye wi-ld a lofiy power, Do with your mijiht, do wUh your strength, Fiil cvery golden hour! The glorious privilege to do Is mon's tnost unble dower, Oh, to your birlliright hnd yourselves: To your own souls bc lr;e! A we.ary, wieiched life is theire, Who h;ive no work to do.