But not drive the Children mad.
They come breakfastless from alleys in the city,
Undersized and underfed,
They are starving, and we give them—more’s the pity!
Education, and not bread.
And we work their brains through every changing season,
Till the ceaseless labour stupifies and numbs;
They are sleepless, and they give the childish reason—
“I can’t get to sleep for thinking of my sums!”
For all day the labour seems quite endless,