human
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And _that_ cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows, The young flowers are blowing towards the west-- But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free.
gpt
and to cry that the world is _very_ dreary; they take but a few steps, and get so tired, that they long for rest. It is true, they say, sometimes they die very young. There was one--little Alice--died lately; they go and listen by her grave and _she_ never cries; no one calls _her_ up early, saying,
human
Get up, little Alice; it is day! time to go off to the droning, droning wheels in the factories, and--
gpt
It is good when it happens, say the children,
human
For oh! say the children,
gpt
O ye wheels--stop--be silent for to-day!