God! how I've wearied for the Spring,
To hear the birds above me sing;
And see the blue within the sky,
For there were times I thought I'd die.

Eight hours' darkness in the pit,
Dark when we got out of it,
Darkness, darkness all the while,
Not even the sunlight of a smile.

Hunger, misery, strife and pain,
Hoping, knowing hopes were in vain,
Striving snarling, trusting to
The brute in us to see us through.

God! how I've wearied for the Spring,