Page:Famous Single Poems (1924).djvu/221

 Raise the rich, dainty dress, and the fine broidered skirt, Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt,
 * Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair

To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old, Half-starved and half-naked, lie crouched from the cold.
 * See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet,

All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street; Hear the sharp cry of childhood, the deep groans that swell
 * From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor,

Hear the curses that sound like the echoes of Hell,
 * As you sicken and shudder and fly from the door;

Then home to your wardrobes, and say, if you dare,— Spoiled children of Fashion,—you’ve nothing to wear!

And oh, if perchance there should be a sphere Where all is made right which so puzzles us here,