Shadowed! And not by common gloom, poor Minister!
The passing shades that chequer every course.
This spectral presence is as stern and sinister
As atra cura on the rider's horse.
Before, the vision of the helpless peasant!
Behind, the famine phantom black and grim!
How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant,
Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?
Wake! There is need for provident prevision,
For watchful eye, and for most wary hand.