THE HUNTER.
True Faith.
THE RACER.
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While to the racer swift and strong, Inexorable fate Assigns the weight, the spur, the thong, The choking struggle sharp and long, The owner wins the plate. Falls to the hind rasped down by toil, And prematurely old, The scanty dole his only spoil From lifelong battle with the soil, The master wins the gold. Now comes a crying through the air, The peasant's righteous call; Lords of the land in liberal care Earth's profit with the workers share, And we'll be winners all. |