Classic Poem

1.

Tax'd Light is poison'd air;
And lords and squires tax Light;
The smile of God, the breath of life,
They curse, with all their might!
They curse the blessed sod;
They, kneel to curse and pray;
They famish, in the name of God,
His children day by day:
Light, Air, and Food, they tax;
Could hell's worst fiends do worse?
Man's all on earth, Light, Air, Food, Life,
With all their might, they curse!
Then, who would play the lord
O'er wapentake and shire?
To make such law, the Dev'l himself
Would scorn to be a Squire.

2.

But sin comes home to roost;
And right too long delay'd
May match, for them, their wretches' home,
The hell on earth they've made:
To beg the bread they curse;
To find in want a hell;
To perish like their victims, starv'd;
May yet requite them well.
" Lord, do thou unto us
As we to others do! "
Such pray'r, from spotted lips, like theirs,
Might turn their angels blue!
Then, who would play the lord
O'er wapentake and shire?
To curse, by law, Light, Air, and Life,
What beast would be a Squire?