...food? " But why do / tnlk of dirt, Where nothing else is known ? I hardly know the foul thing's form. It seems so — like my own. It seems so like my own — While three in a bed we sleep, Till filth doth grow to the poor man dew, While water and soap am...

...men, with mothers and wives, It is uot linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives ! Stitch, stitch, stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing...with a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt." " Stop," says a Spitalfields weaver, " God plants truth in the hearts of men, and this is of it." "...

...with mothers and wivee ! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives ! sin i'Ii — stitch — stitch. In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double tbread, A sbroud as well as a shirt. " But wby do I talk of Death — That phantom of grisly bone,...

...with mothers and wives ! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives? Stitch — stitch — stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing...seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep, Oh ! God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap ! " Work — work — work ;...

...poverty, hunger an dirt, Sewing at »иге, with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt *). Bat why do I talk of Death ? That Phantom of grisly bone,...seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep, Oh, God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap ! **) Work ! work ! work ? My...

...her hard condition. The case may apply as well to laborers of the other sex, if not even better. " But why do I talk of death. That phantom of grisly...— It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts 1 keep, U God ! that bread should be to dear, And flesh and blood so cheap ! " Work, work, work ! My...

...with mothers and wives I It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives ! Stitch— stitch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing...But why do I talk of Death ? That phantom of grisly hone, 1 hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own. It Booms so like my own, Because of...

...hunger an dirt, Sewing at once, with a doable thread, Л Shroud as well as a Shirt *). But why do [ talk of Death? That Phantom of grisly bone, I hardly...seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep, Oh, God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap! ") Work ! work ! work ! My labour...

...human creatures' lived! Stitch — stich — stitch. In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing nt onre, with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt. " ' But why do I talk of Death > That phantom of grizly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems fo like my own — It seems so like my own,...

...stitch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sowing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as welt os a shirt. But why do I talk of Death ? That phantom of grisly hone, 1 hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems но like my own. It seems so like my own. Because...