“Now is your hour of pleasure— bask ye in the world’s caresses;
But our whitening bones against ye will rise as witnesses,
From the cabins and the ditches, in their charred, uncoffin’d masses,
For the Angel of the Trumpet will know them as he passes.
A ghastly, spectral army, before the great God we’ll stand,
And arraign ye as our murderers, the spoilers of our land.”
Lady Speranza Wilde, The Famine Year: http://www.ballinagree.freeservers.com/famyear.html