Paupers Wood Poem by William Barton
Paupers Wood
The rich man said,
"We'll close the mills -
There's no profit to be made."
But in the crowded streets
Hunger prospered.
The rich man said,
"We'll build a workhouse
For all the idle poor."
But in the work-less streets
Fear found new lodgings.
The rich man said,
"Paupers! Not fit to rot
In a rich man's graveyard! "
But birds now sing a requiem
For all at peace in Paupers' Wood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 6:25:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
