Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/110

 Dark the night—the children wail forsaken,
 * Crane their wrinkled necks and cry for food,

Drop off into fitful sleep, or waken
 * Trembling like a sparrow's ravished brood.

Dark the night—the rain falls on the ashes,
 * Feebly hissing on the feeble heat,

Filters through the ceiling, drops in splashes
 * On the little children's naked feet.

Dark the night—the children wail forsaken—
 * Is there none, ah, none, to heed their moan?

Yea, at dawn one little one is taken,
 * Four poor souls are left, but one is gone.

Gone—escaped—flown from the shame and sorrow
 * Waiting for them at life's sombre gate,

But the hand of merciless to-morrow
 * Drags the others shuddering to their fate.

But one came—a girlish thing—a creature
 * Flung by wanton hands 'mid lust and crime—