Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/142

 the sleeve of his coat and his ragged flannel shirt, exposing a naked arm with the muscles nearly gone, and the blue-white transparent skin stretched over sinews and the outline of the bones. Pitiful beyond words were his efforts to give a semblance of strength to the biceps which rose faintly to the upward movement of the forearm. But the boss sent him off with an oath and a contemptuous laugh, and I watched the fellow as he turned down the street, facing the fact of his starving family with a despair at his heart which only mortal man can feel and no mortal tongue can speak.

The Bread Line

(Contemporary American poet)

Well, here they are—they stand and stamp and shiver Waiting their food from some kind stranger hand, Their weary limbs with eagerness a-quiver Hungry and heartsick in a bounteous land.

"Beggars and bums?" Perhaps, and largely worthless. Shaky with drink, unlovely, craven, low, With obscene tongues and hollow laughter mirthless; But who shall give them scorn for being so?

Yes, here they are—with gaunt and pallid faces, With limbs ill-clad and fingers stiff and blued, Shuffling and stamping on their pavement places, Waiting and watching for their bit of food.