"Oh God that tread should be so dear.

Ará jush and blood i

Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!

"Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!

Oh, men, with Mothers and Wives!

It is not linen you're wearing out,

But human creatures' lives!
Stitch-stitch-stitch,

In poverty, hunger and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double thread.
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.

"But why do I talk of Death?
That Phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own-
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep ;

Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

"Work-work-work!

My labour never flags;

And what are its wages? A bed of straw,

A crust of bread-and rags.

That shatter'd roof-and this naked floor

A table-a broken chair

And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there!

"Work-work-work!

From weary chime to chime,
Work-work-work-

As prisoners work for crime!