ghizela rowe - mary botham howitt - the unregarded toils of the poor lyrics
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alas! what secret tears are shed
what wounded spirits bleed;
what loving hearts are sundered
and yet man takes no heed!
he goeth in his daily course
made fat with oil and wine
and pitieth not the weary souls
that in his bondage pine, +
that turn for him the mazy wheel
that delve for him the mine!
and pitieth not the children small
in noisy factories dim
that all day long, lean, pale, and faint
do heavy tasks for him!
to him they are but as the stones
beneath his feet that lie:
it entеreth not his thoughts that they
from him claim sympathy:
it entеreth not his thoughts that god
heareth the sufferer’s groan
that in his righteous eye their life
is precious as his own
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