Where yonder ruddy-misted star br Is tumbling down the placid sky br The people’s aims were not so high br As our heroic motives are; br To love and trust they set a bar, br And “Profit” was their only cry; br They paid but little heed how nigh br Came thundering the iron car. br br It rushed upon them and it passed br Leaving a ghost of pain and fear br To haunt the ruin it had made. br But surely they have learnt at last? br What far faint murmur can we hear br Of frantic howling? Listen! . . . “TRADE.