Why passed the one who poorly knows,
That blithesome spell for either fortune,
Or mocked with lingering menace those
Whose pains the final thrust importune;
Or left the toiling ones who bear
The crowd’s neglect, the want that presses,
The woes no human soul can share,
Nor look, nor spoken word, confesses.
And from the earth no answer came,
The forest wore a stillness deeper,