Distress of the Peasants
A cry of bitter agony and lamentation rose from the starving Isle of Saints to the gates of Heaven, and fell back unheard; the sky was hard as brass above and the earth was barren beneath, and men and women died in despair, their shrivelled lips still stained green by the dried grass and twigs they had striven to eat.
“I passed by Margaret Nolan’s: for nine days
Her mouth was green with dock and dandelion;
And now they wake her.”