Bread and Roses By James Oppenheim As we come marching, marching, in the beauty of the day, A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill-lofts gray Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses, For the people hear us singing, Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses. As we come marching, marching, we battle, too, for men -- For they are womens children, and we mother them again. Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes -- Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses. As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead Go crying through our singing their ancient song of Bread; Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew -- Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for Roses, too. As we come marching, marching, we bring the Greater Days -- The rising of the women means the rising of the race -- No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes -- But a sharing of lifes glories: Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Mar 2014 15:46:09 +0000
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