That youthful face,
So lately lit with ecstasy of joy,
Wears now a look of keen and sharp-felt pain.
“Tick, tock,” work, work, “tick, tock,” work, work!
Alas! thy fair, sweet dreams
Will not bring bread and shelter
To thy aged, widowed mother!
Thy life is not thine own.
To work, to work!
O fair and noble youth,