A CREATURE wan, of dwarfed physique, Lack-lustre eye, and shrunken limb, With frame bowed prematurely down, Age counterfeited in its frown, Denied the freedom of the sun, Robbed of fresh air and wholesome food; Of parents' proper love bereft; Hands preternaturally deft, That dainty fabrics may be spun. In stature and in years a child, In pain's experience senile, Its heritage of childhood sold That its employer gather gold; Its thought the cunning of the wild. The thing that might have been a man Or woman, blessing all the race, Is made a criminal or bawd, For cost of yacht or jewel gawd, To mock creation's nobler plan. Between the thing that might have been And this the thing that greed has made, There lies the evil profit which Makes nations poor, and persons rich, The product of a gilded sin. Look on this creature, dour and grim, The winner of your luxury, Smug idler and your lady fair; This hostage God left to your care — Behold your work and answer him! But ere He calls you to the bar Beyond the grave your tale to tell, You will be tried by fellow men, And so atone to them, that then You will not fear the threat of hell. |