Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/186

 The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery Swift to be hurl'd— Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly The rough river ran; Over the brink of it,— Picture it, think of it, Dissolute Man! Lave in it, drink of it Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair!

Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, kindly, Smooth and compose them; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly!