A Famine Cry

Oh skeleton with the hungry jaw, Corpse-snatcher, armed with tooth and claw, Not satiate yet? Thy lustful maw?

Eiré, to you our love we gave, Our mother-mistress, now our grave, Be pitiful for once, and save!

My heart hath grown a very clod, Stone-bound, unfruitful as this sod; I ask and ask--“Is there a God?”

Eiré, to you our love we gave Our mother-mistress, now our grave, Be pitiful for once and save!