Classic Poem

False, false, false
Wealth had ye and your brothers lie in the straw;
Knowledge had ye and your brothers grope in the dark;
Leisure had ye and your brothers are bound to the wheel;
O false, false, false!

False, false, false
Down from your painted couches into the street,
Into the grimy square. In the glare of day,
Shall ye not stoop to reap that ye have sown?
O false, false, false!