...Industry spoke of those who were pushed beyond endurance as "The Early Called." It was morning, and the factory bell Had sent forth its early call, And...with throbbing brow, Working her way to the tomb. O, wearily had she risen that morn, Wearily gone to the mill; And she felt that in her aching heart...

...but common occurrences." A worker signing her poem as "Pheney" submitted these lines to the Voice: And amidst the clashing noise and din Of the ever...with throbbing brow, Working her way to the tomb. If words could kill, the Voice might have achieved at least some reforms. But Abbott Lawrence, unscathed...