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
