Ill fares the land, to hast’ning ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay…”
– Oliver Goldsmith, The Deserted Village

“Have we not seen, at pleasure’s lordly call,
The smiling long frequented village fall?
While, scourg’d by famine from the smiling land
The mournful peasant leads his humble band;
And while he sinks, without one arm to save,
The country blooms – a garden and a grave…

Ill fares the land, to hast’ning ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay…”