Or through the equinoctials blowing blind,
Or at cold milking-time when dawns are red
And birds awake and I remain in bed.
Not so the miner! Though his private life
Is blameless and his soul is pure and brave;
Although he gives his wages to his wife
And spanks his children when they don't behave;
Though rather than incur industrial strife
He takes the cash and lets the Bolshy rave,
He is condemned to toil in mines and galleries,