Victorian Poetry/The Pauper's Burial

The following lines too truly delineate the cold indifference with which the poor remains of those who are born to suffer and die, are huddled into the grave: -

Bury him there –
No matter where!
Hustle him our of the way,
Trouble enough
We have with such stuff,
Taxes and money to pay.

Bury him there –
No matter where!
Off in some corner of best!
There’s no need of stones
Above his bones
Nobody’ll ask where they rest.

Bury him there –
No matter where!
None by his death are bereft;
Stopping to pray?
Shovel away!
We still have enough of them left.

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