DEATH OF LABOUR

Methought a great wind swept across the earth,
    And all the toilers perished. Then I saw
Pale terror blanch the rosy face of mirth,
    And careless eyes grow full of fear and awe.
The sounds of pleasure ceased; the laughing song
    On folly's lip changed to an angry cures:
A nameless horror seized the idle throng,
    And death and ruin filled the universe.

Poems.By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
London: Gay and Hancock, [n.d.]


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