The Bread Line Trails its Clouded Way into My Sunny Heart
The bread line trails its clouded way into my sunny heart:
Off the street in the cold midnight finds its way to me:
Leaves the great rows of houses behind, leaves the noise of the city behind,
Comes to me — in desire, in belief, in brave reaction from fear, comes to me:
The vast long procession of the unfed comes to me for sustenance — drags its doubtful feet to my open doors:
The cortege of countless thousands, young men and old, adrift, hurt, ready to give up, comes to me, seeing my hands on the wheel:
The blood-stained stream pouring its threatening flood across the earth, comes to me:
Like a living question mark comes to me: like a wild unloosed force divine demonic comes to me asking pay:
I hear its fearful cry: " Look at us, emaciated, in rags: we have carried your cross: where is our pay? "
Brothers, I ask that, too: Where is your pay?
Your pay is not in the crust doled out to you in the dead of the night:
No: God knows that is not your pay: that is no part of the pay:
Your pay can only be given to you in justice in the quick of noontime:
Much belongs to you: much: riches untold belong to you:
You have endured for us all — you have accepted dishonor for us all:
Now it's time for you to quit: now it's time for you to demand a reckoning:
I hear your mutterings: I know what they mean: they are not overtures of peace.
This world that sends some of its saviors to scaffolds sends others of its saviors to the bread line: they all look for their pay:
And oh, this world sends some of its girls to the street: they too endure for the rest: they too will be looking for their pay:
And the children lashed into the factories and the stores by a system: they too will be looking for their pay: they too:
And the dead, the starved and the murdered, your father maybe and my father or some others (who knows who?), will come back from their graves: they too will look for their pay.
I peer into their faces: they all come to me: they all ask the same question: " We have carried your cross: where is our pay? "
I know your pay is postponed, O my brothers, but you will get it, cent for cent:
I know that no pay will suffice that does not pay in service and equality:
I know that you suffer while you wait and die while you suffer: but you will get your pay: it can be put off no longer:
I know that being good to you is not pay: I know that being square with you is the only pay:
I know that while you are hungry for bread bread does not feed you — does not pay you:
For I know that there is something you are hungrier for than bread and that you will finally taste its appeasing fruit.
Come to me: yes, all of you — come: take me at my word:
They give you bread: God bless the bread: eat: then come to me:
I, too, will give you something, but what I give is rarer sweeter than bread:
I will give you a brother: I will feed you from harvests off brotherfields:
I will not send you away with a crust (O divine crust, too!): I will send you away with faith:
You will not take cold dry crumbs out of my retreating hand and choke over them on the frozen benches in the park:
What I send you away with will rebuild your fires: your torch, near put out, will flame up again:
This is the last bread line: it files solemnly into my heart: it wonders what my password can be:
I feed it once for all: my food will last: you who are fed with it are fed for good:
I send it forth gorged not with crusts but with rebellion:
I do not promise it charity — I promise it love.
I always haunt the bread line (it always so haunts me): last night I was there again: Broadway was ghastly cruel, dim, silent:
The winds blew chill from the northwest: the storm was extra rough: a cold rain fell:
Yes: there was no mistake about it: these were my brothers waiting waiting for a meager penny handed out to them in the dark:
It was all so like looking into a black pit where there was no hope:
It was all so like being in the maelstrom yourself gazed at by someone who wondered but did not love:
But I, O my brothers: while I wondered I also loved:
And so I went on alone by myself awhile to let it soak well in:
And so somehow though matters looked pretty dense I could see a bright way out for us all:
And that's why the worst does not look hopeless to me that's why, O my brothers: that's why:
The bread line trails its clouded way into my sunny heart.
Off the street in the cold midnight finds its way to me:
Leaves the great rows of houses behind, leaves the noise of the city behind,
Comes to me — in desire, in belief, in brave reaction from fear, comes to me:
The vast long procession of the unfed comes to me for sustenance — drags its doubtful feet to my open doors:
The cortege of countless thousands, young men and old, adrift, hurt, ready to give up, comes to me, seeing my hands on the wheel:
The blood-stained stream pouring its threatening flood across the earth, comes to me:
Like a living question mark comes to me: like a wild unloosed force divine demonic comes to me asking pay:
I hear its fearful cry: " Look at us, emaciated, in rags: we have carried your cross: where is our pay? "
Brothers, I ask that, too: Where is your pay?
Your pay is not in the crust doled out to you in the dead of the night:
No: God knows that is not your pay: that is no part of the pay:
Your pay can only be given to you in justice in the quick of noontime:
Much belongs to you: much: riches untold belong to you:
You have endured for us all — you have accepted dishonor for us all:
Now it's time for you to quit: now it's time for you to demand a reckoning:
I hear your mutterings: I know what they mean: they are not overtures of peace.
This world that sends some of its saviors to scaffolds sends others of its saviors to the bread line: they all look for their pay:
And oh, this world sends some of its girls to the street: they too endure for the rest: they too will be looking for their pay:
And the children lashed into the factories and the stores by a system: they too will be looking for their pay: they too:
And the dead, the starved and the murdered, your father maybe and my father or some others (who knows who?), will come back from their graves: they too will look for their pay.
I peer into their faces: they all come to me: they all ask the same question: " We have carried your cross: where is our pay? "
I know your pay is postponed, O my brothers, but you will get it, cent for cent:
I know that no pay will suffice that does not pay in service and equality:
I know that you suffer while you wait and die while you suffer: but you will get your pay: it can be put off no longer:
I know that being good to you is not pay: I know that being square with you is the only pay:
I know that while you are hungry for bread bread does not feed you — does not pay you:
For I know that there is something you are hungrier for than bread and that you will finally taste its appeasing fruit.
Come to me: yes, all of you — come: take me at my word:
They give you bread: God bless the bread: eat: then come to me:
I, too, will give you something, but what I give is rarer sweeter than bread:
I will give you a brother: I will feed you from harvests off brotherfields:
I will not send you away with a crust (O divine crust, too!): I will send you away with faith:
You will not take cold dry crumbs out of my retreating hand and choke over them on the frozen benches in the park:
What I send you away with will rebuild your fires: your torch, near put out, will flame up again:
This is the last bread line: it files solemnly into my heart: it wonders what my password can be:
I feed it once for all: my food will last: you who are fed with it are fed for good:
I send it forth gorged not with crusts but with rebellion:
I do not promise it charity — I promise it love.
I always haunt the bread line (it always so haunts me): last night I was there again: Broadway was ghastly cruel, dim, silent:
The winds blew chill from the northwest: the storm was extra rough: a cold rain fell:
Yes: there was no mistake about it: these were my brothers waiting waiting for a meager penny handed out to them in the dark:
It was all so like looking into a black pit where there was no hope:
It was all so like being in the maelstrom yourself gazed at by someone who wondered but did not love:
But I, O my brothers: while I wondered I also loved:
And so I went on alone by myself awhile to let it soak well in:
And so somehow though matters looked pretty dense I could see a bright way out for us all:
And that's why the worst does not look hopeless to me that's why, O my brothers: that's why:
The bread line trails its clouded way into my sunny heart.
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