 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
“GIVE US THIS DAY,” ETC.
From court and cellar dank, and grim
With filth and figures gray,
Where upon night defiled and dim,
Follows the darker day;
From lips that tremble, white with need,
Nor words can fitly frame,
To picture how they bend and bleed,
In shadow that is shame;
Yea, in a hundred alleys lone,
That never saw the sky,
From bosoms harder even than stone,
Breaks forth the starving cry.
With filth and figures gray,
Where upon night defiled and dim,
Follows the darker day;
From lips that tremble, white with need,
Nor words can fitly frame,
To picture how they bend and bleed,
In shadow that is shame;
Yea, in a hundred alleys lone,
That never saw the sky,
From bosoms harder even than stone,
Breaks forth the starving cry.
In attics bare beneath the tiles,
At mercy of the frost,
Where not a leaf or floweret smiles,
That look like regions lost;
On stairs by stumbling footsteps trod,
In drunken strife or play,
From mouths that often speak of God,
But not as those that pray;
Knells through the frolic and the feast,
As hours go gaily by,
From brothers lower than the beast,
The helpless hopeless cry.
At mercy of the frost,
Where not a leaf or floweret smiles,
That look like regions lost;
On stairs by stumbling footsteps trod,
In drunken strife or play,
From mouths that often speak of God,
But not as those that pray;
Knells through the frolic and the feast,
As hours go gaily by,
From brothers lower than the beast,
The helpless hopeless cry.
376
From miry street, and archway old
Idly by outcast won,
That offers refuge from the cold,
It may bestow on none;
From pavement, corner, crossing, lair
Blackened with smoke and dust,
Where wretches suckled on despair,
Bear damnéd fruit of lust;
From withered hearts that years of ill
Have seen unskilled to fly,
And children's breasts more aged still,
Goes up the bitter cry,
Idly by outcast won,
That offers refuge from the cold,
It may bestow on none;
From pavement, corner, crossing, lair
Blackened with smoke and dust,
Where wretches suckled on despair,
Bear damnéd fruit of lust;
From withered hearts that years of ill
Have seen unskilled to fly,
And children's breasts more aged still,
Goes up the bitter cry,
“Week after week, through fog and rain,
Through sleet and stormy wind,
We work and pity seek in vain,
And nought but fasting find;
Week after week, with cruel fears,
We wander late and lone,
Our only cup is that of tears,
Our only bread the stone;
These hungry hearts are more than dead,
For love ye well might give—
‘Give us this day our daily bread,’
And let your brothers live.”
Through sleet and stormy wind,
We work and pity seek in vain,
And nought but fasting find;
Week after week, with cruel fears,
We wander late and lone,
Our only cup is that of tears,
Our only bread the stone;
These hungry hearts are more than dead,
For love ye well might give—
‘Give us this day our daily bread,’
And let your brothers live.”
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |