Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.
[Footnote: Housman, A. E.: A Shropshire Lad, xlviii.]
A Study of History, Vol VI, OUP, 1939