O, there is lovely to feel a book, a good book, firm in the hand, for its fatness holds rich promise, and you are hot inside to think of good hours to come.
Strange that only a little problem of your own will take your mind far from a tragedy belonging to others.
A man will never know a woman until he knows her work.
How green was my valley then, and the valley of them that have gone.
O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might.
Let the Unions become engines for the working people to right their wrongs. Not benefit societies, or burial clubs. Let the Unions become civilian regiments to fight in the cause of the people.