Death Of Labour

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Methought a great wind swept across the earth,

And all the toilers perished. Then I saw

Pale terror blanch the rosy face of mirth,

And careless eyes grow full of fear and awe.

The sounds of pleasure ceased; the laughing song

On folly's lip changed to an angry cures:

A nameless horror seized the idle throng,

And death and ruin filled the universe.