A Song: Men of England
Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low?— Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear?
Wherefore, feed and clothe and save From the cradle to the grave, Those ungrateful ones who take All the profits of your make?
From the tyrant’s side away, Shun the gloomy woods of May; Cursus; better take it plain, ‘Nay, it is mine—it is in vain.’ Accounting over the glen and hall, To have life, and all in all!
- Percy Bysshe Shelley