THE CHARTIST'S COMPLAINT.
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ay! hast thou two faces,Making one place two places?One, by humble farmer seen,Chill and wet, unlighted, mean,Useful only, triste and damp,Serving for a labourer's lamp?Have the same mists another side,To be the appanage of pride,Gracing the rich man's wood and lake,His park where amber mornings break,And treacherously bright to showHis planted isle where roses glow?O Day! and is your mightinessA sycophant to smug success?Will the sweet sky and ocean broadBe fine accomplices to fraud?O Sun! I curse thy cruel ray:Back, back to chaos, harlot Day!
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