When The World Grows Fair
Come hither lads and hearken, for a tale there is to tell,
Of the wonderful days a-coming, when all shall be better than well.
Men in that time a-coming shall work and have no fear
For to-morrow’s lack of earning, and the hunger-wolf anear.
I tell you this for a wonder, that no man then shall be glad
Of his fellow’s fall and mishap, to snatch at the work he had.
For that which the worker winneth shall then be his indeed,
Nor shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no seed.
Oh, Strange new wonderful justice! but for whom shall we gather the gain?
For ourselves and each of our fellows, and no hand shall labor 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 fetter a friend for a slave.
And what wealth then shall be left us, when none shall gather gold
To buy his friend in the market, and pinch and pine the sold?
Nay, What save the lovely city, and the little house on the hill,
And the wastes and the woodland beauty, and the happy fields we till;
And the homes of ancient stories, the tombs of the mighty dead;
And the wise men seeking out marvels, and the poet’s teeming head;
And the painter’s hand of wonder, and the marvelous fiddle-bow,
And the banded choirs of music: all those that do and know.
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.
Oh, why and for what are we waiting, while our brothers droop and die,
And on every wind of the heavens a wasted life goes by?
Come, join in the only battle wherein no man can fail,
Where whoso fadeth and dieth yet his deed shall still prevail.
—William Morris.
Alternate Reading: Psalms 139:1-14.