Look for him
In the mills,
In the mines;
Where the very daylight pines,--
He, who once did walk the hills!
You shall find him, if you scan
Shapes all unbefitting Man,
Bodies warped, and faces dim.
In the mines; in the mills
Where the ceaseless thunder fills
Spaces of the human brain
Till all thought is turned to pain.
Where the skirl of wheel on wheel,
Grinding him who is their tool,
Makes the shattered senses reel
To the numbness of the fool.
Perisht thought, and halting tongue
(Once it spoke;--once it sung!)
Live to hunger, dead to song.
Only heart-beats loud with wrong
Hammer on,--_How long_?
... _How long_?--_How long_?

Search for him;
Search for him;
Where the crazy atoms swim
Up the fiery furnace-blast.
You shall find him, at the last,--
He whose forehead braved the sun,--
Wreckt and tortured and undone.