Victims of Want
Had there flowed blood
In our peasants’ veins
We’d have built bridges
To join our several ridges.
Then the many exiled peers
Might re-cross the flooded streams
That had divided their dreams
And pilloried the science of seers.
But the fire of want
Had our people dehydrated
And those (like me) who bled yet
Were catalogued to a grim existence.
O posterity!
Do not disdain our delicacy;
For time is multiplex
And might your ship dis-mast!
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