Child LaborBy Ruby Archer(See page 254)
By Ruby Archer
(See page 254)
Poor little children that work all day—Far from the meadows, far from the birds,Far from the beautiful, silent wordsThe hills know how to say!Laughter is gone from your old-young eyes—Gone from the lips with the dimples sweet,Gone with the song of the little feet—As light in winter dies.Evening—with only the years at ten?Where was the morning, where was the noon?Did the day turn back to the night so soon,Children—women—and—men?Parts of the monster things that turn;Less than a lever, less than a wheel!Pity you were not wrought of steel,To save the pence you earn!Add the columns, aye, foot the gain—Ye that barter in children’s lives!How will the reckoning end, that strivesTo balance gold and pain?
Poor little children that work all day—Far from the meadows, far from the birds,Far from the beautiful, silent wordsThe hills know how to say!Laughter is gone from your old-young eyes—Gone from the lips with the dimples sweet,Gone with the song of the little feet—As light in winter dies.Evening—with only the years at ten?Where was the morning, where was the noon?Did the day turn back to the night so soon,Children—women—and—men?Parts of the monster things that turn;Less than a lever, less than a wheel!Pity you were not wrought of steel,To save the pence you earn!Add the columns, aye, foot the gain—Ye that barter in children’s lives!How will the reckoning end, that strivesTo balance gold and pain?
Poor little children that work all day—Far from the meadows, far from the birds,Far from the beautiful, silent wordsThe hills know how to say!
Poor little children that work all day—
Far from the meadows, far from the birds,
Far from the beautiful, silent words
The hills know how to say!
Laughter is gone from your old-young eyes—Gone from the lips with the dimples sweet,Gone with the song of the little feet—As light in winter dies.
Laughter is gone from your old-young eyes—
Gone from the lips with the dimples sweet,
Gone with the song of the little feet—
As light in winter dies.
Evening—with only the years at ten?Where was the morning, where was the noon?Did the day turn back to the night so soon,Children—women—and—men?
Evening—with only the years at ten?
Where was the morning, where was the noon?
Did the day turn back to the night so soon,
Children—women—and—men?
Parts of the monster things that turn;Less than a lever, less than a wheel!Pity you were not wrought of steel,To save the pence you earn!
Parts of the monster things that turn;
Less than a lever, less than a wheel!
Pity you were not wrought of steel,
To save the pence you earn!
Add the columns, aye, foot the gain—Ye that barter in children’s lives!How will the reckoning end, that strivesTo balance gold and pain?
Add the columns, aye, foot the gain—
Ye that barter in children’s lives!
How will the reckoning end, that strives
To balance gold and pain?