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! As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead Go crying through our singing their ancient song of Bread; Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew-- Yes, it is bread we fight for--but we fight for Roses, too. As we come marching, marching, we bring the Greater Days-- The rising of the women means the rising of the race-- No more the drudge and idler--ten that toil where one reposes-- But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and Roses, Bread and Roses! The Great Strike[A] [A] By permission of Doubleday, Page & Co. (_From "Happy Humanity"_) BY FREDERIK VAN EEDEN (The Dutch physician, poet and novelist has here told for American readers a personal experience in the labor struggles of his own country) About forty of us were sent as delegates to different towns to lead and encourage the strikers there. The password was given and a date and hour secretly appointed. On Monday morning, the sixth of April, 1903, no train was to run on any railway in the Netherlands. Sunday evening I set out, as one of the forty delegates, on the warpath. I took leave of my family, filled a suitcase with pamphlets and fly-leaves, and arrived in the middle of the night at the little town of Amersfoort, an important railway junction, to bring my message from headquarters that a strike would be declared that night in the whole country. Expecting the Government to be very active and energetic and not unlikely to arrest me, I took an assumed name, and was dressed like a laborer.... I stayed a week in that little town, living in the houses of the strikers, sharing their meals and their hours of suspense and anxiety. There was a dark, dingy meeting-room where they all preferred to gather, rather than stay at home. The women also regularly attended these meetings, sometimes bringing their children, and they all sought the comfort of being in company, talking of hopes and fears, cheering each other up by songs, and trying to raise each other's spirits during the long days of inaction. I addressed them, three or four times a day, trying to give them sound notions on social conditions and preparing them for the defeat which I soon knew to be inevitable. I may say, however, that, though I was of all the forty delegates the least hopeful of ultimate success, my little party was the last to surrender and showed the smallest percentage of fugitives.