Those souls that usually dived
Into the dirty caverns of mines;
Who usually hived
In whitened hovels; under ragged poplars;
Who dragged muddy shovels, over the grassy mud,
Lumbering to work over the greasy sods ...
Those men there, with the appearance of clods
Were the bravest men that a usually listless priest of God
Ever shrived ...
And it is not for us to make them an anthem.