Than in many a House of Commons' debate,
Or the "sense" of a Manchester meeting!
And laugh as we may, it would make us start,
Could we read the depths of its mother's heart,—
Or imagine one twenty-thousandth part
Of the feelings that stir within it;
What a freight that little existence bears
Of pallid smiles and tremulous tears,
Of joys never breathed into mortal ears,
Griefs that the callous world never hears,