“The Man with the Hoe” is a poem by Edwin Markham, first published in 1899. Written at a time when workers in the United States had few protections and rights, the poem boldly critiques of the exploitation of laborers by a capitalistic, profit-driven society. Inspired by the French artist Jean-Francois Millet’s famous painting, which depicts a peasant who appears dejected and exhausted as he leans on his hoe, Markham’s poem was widely reprinted in newspapers, fueling a national debate about the treatment of labor in American society and the need for reform. Accusing the ruling class of moral failure, “The Man with the Hoe” is a protest poem, part of a tradition of literature concerned with social justice.
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Written after seeing Millet’s World-Famous Painting
God made man in His own image,
in the image of God made He him. —Genesis.
1Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
2Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
3The emptiness of ages in his face,
4And on his back the burden of the world.
5Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
6A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
7Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
8Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
9Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
10Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
11Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
12To have dominion over sea and land;
13To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
14To feel the passion of Eternity?
15Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
16And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
17Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
18There is no shape more terrible than this—
19More tongued with censure of the world’s blind greed—
20More filled with signs and portents for the soul—
21More fraught with danger to the universe.
22What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
23Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
24Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
25What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
26The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
27Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
28Time’s tragedy is in that aching stoop;
29Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
30Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
31Cries protest to the Judges of the World,
32A protest that is also prophecy.
33O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
34is this the handiwork you give to God,
35This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched ?
36How will you ever straighten up this shape;
37Touch it again with immortality;
38Give back the upward looking and the light;
39Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
40Make right the immemorial infamies,
41Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
42O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
43How will the Future reckon with this Man?
44How answer his brute question in that hour
45When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
46How will it be with kingdoms and with kings—
47With those who shaped him to the thing he is—
48When this dumb Terror shall reply to God
49After the silence of the centuries?
Written after seeing Millet’s World-Famous Painting
God made man in His own image,
in the image of God made He him. —Genesis.
1Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
2Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
3The emptiness of ages in his face,
4And on his back the burden of the world.
5Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
6A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
7Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
8Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
9Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
10Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
11Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
12To have dominion over sea and land;
13To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
14To feel the passion of Eternity?
15Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
16And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
17Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
18There is no shape more terrible than this—
19More tongued with censure of the world’s blind greed—
20More filled with signs and portents for the soul—
21More fraught with danger to the universe.
22What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
23Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
24Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
25What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
26The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
27Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
28Time’s tragedy is in that aching stoop;
29Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
30Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
31Cries protest to the Judges of the World,
32A protest that is also prophecy.
33O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
34is this the handiwork you give to God,
35This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched ?
36How will you ever straighten up this shape;
37Touch it again with immortality;
38Give back the upward looking and the light;
39Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
40Make right the immemorial infamies,
41Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
42O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
43How will the Future reckon with this Man?
44How answer his brute question in that hour
45When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
46How will it be with kingdoms and with kings—
47With those who shaped him to the thing he is—
48When this dumb Terror shall reply to God
49After the silence of the centuries?
Written after seeing Millet’s World-Famous Painting
God made man in His own image,
in the image of God made He him.
—Genesis.
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this—
More tongued with censure of the world’s blind greed—
More filled with signs and portents for the soul—
More fraught with danger to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time’s tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Judges of the World,
A protest that is also prophecy.
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched ?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the Future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings—
With those who shaped him to the thing he is—
When this dumb Terror shall reply to God
After the silence of the centuries?
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Markham in California — More details about Markham's life, including photos and additional poems.
Relationships and Influences — Markham's aesthetics may have gone out of style, but his influence lives on. Learn more at Poetry Out Loud.
The "World-Famous Painting" — See Jean-François Millet's painting that inspired this poem.
Markham's Life Story — At the Poetry Foundation, a biography and overview of Markham's career
The American Labor Movement — Learn more about the history of labor in the United States.