Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/246

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To labour ere their strength be come, Or starve,—is such the doom That makes of many an English home One long and living tomb?

Is there no pity from above,— No mercy in those skies; Hath then the heart of man no love, To spare such sacrifice?

Oh, England! though thy tribute waves Proclaim thee great and free, While those small children pine like slaves, There is a curse on thee!