The corn, the oil, the wine.

He sang. No more he sings now, anywhere.
Light was enough, before he was undone.
They knew it well, who took away the air,
--Who took away the sun;
Who took, to serve their soul-devouring greed,
Himself, his breath, his bread--the goad of toil;--
Who have and hold, before the eyes of Need,
The corn, the wine,--the oil!

_Truly, one thing is sweet
Of things beneath the Sun;
This, that a man should earn his bread and eat,
Rejoicing in his work which he hath done.
What shall be sung or said
Of desolate deceit.
When others take his bread;
His and his children's bread?--
And the laborer hath none.
This, for his portion now, of all that he hath done.
He earns; and others eat.
He starves;--they sit at meat
Who have taken away the Sun._


II

Seek him now, that singing Man.
Look for him,