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thee ！ No，

they ’re

the stares

of misery

！ They

speak of

hunger‘s

frightful

hold On

lips a-dry

and

stomachs

cold.

Bread，

bread！

they cry，

these

weary men，

With wives

and

children

from the

glen！ O，

they would

toil the

live-long

day But

for a

meal，

their

lives to

stay. But

where is

it in all

the land？

Unless the

gods with

gen’rous

handSend

sweet some

rice and

strengthening

corn To

these vast

crowds to

hunger

born！ For

months the

awful

famine