By Edgar Prestage
285
Ten hills are dug . . . where is the wheat?
Six mouths begotten . . . where is the wheat?
—Misery! oh, misery!
Upon his door comes Hunger s beat,
And Death s re-echoing the beat . . .
—Misery! oh, misery!
"The peace of God, I now entreat!
The peace of God, I now entreat!"
The digger sighed, and ceased to dree!
