Bread and Roses

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 women's 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!