Men of England, wherefore plough <br />For the lords who lay ye low? <br />Wherefore weave with toil and care <br />The rich robes your tyrants wear? <br /> <br />Wherefore feed and clothe and save, <br />From the cradle to the grave, <br />Those ungrateful drones who would <br />Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood? <br /> <br />Wherefore, Bees of England, forge <br />Many a weapon, chain, and scourge, <br />That these stingless drones may spoil <br />The forced produce of your toil? <br /> <br />Have ye leisure, comfort, calm, <br />Shelter, food, love's gentle balm? <br />Or what is it ye buy so dear <br />With your pain and with your fear? <br /> <br />The seed ye sow another reaps; <br />The wealth ye find another keeps; <br />The robes ye weave another wears; <br />The arms ye forge another bears. <br /> <br />Sow seed, -- but let no tyrant reap; <br />Find wealth, -- let no imposter heap; <br />Weave robes, -- let not the idle wear; <br />Forge arms, in your defence to bear. <br /> <br />Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells; <br />In halls ye deck another dwells. <br />Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see <br />The steel ye tempered glance on ye. <br /> <br />With plough and spade and hoe and loom, <br />Trace your grave, and build your tomb, <br />And weave your winding-sheet, till fair <br />England be your sepulchre!<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-men-of-england/
