 | Women must weep |  |
THE BABY INNOCENTS.
We cry from ghastly courts and lanes,
Where sunshine never falls—
Where straw is stuffed in broken panes,
And smoke begrimes the walls—
Where rings the ribald jest, and oaths
The sigh of suffering drown,
And hideous forms half stript of clothes,
Go stalking up and down.
For clouds have pitch'd their gloomy tents,
Between us and the sky;
We are the Baby Innocents,
And so we can but cry.
Where sunshine never falls—
Where straw is stuffed in broken panes,
And smoke begrimes the walls—
Where rings the ribald jest, and oaths
The sigh of suffering drown,
And hideous forms half stript of clothes,
Go stalking up and down.
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Between us and the sky;
We are the Baby Innocents,
And so we can but cry.
We never knew a loving breast,
We never felt the arm
Of pity fondling us to rest,
Or shielding from the harm.
We see but hateful bursts of sin,
The blow or bloody stain;
We poisoned are with dirt and gin,
And, prisoned, writhe in pain.
Our dress is rags and gaping rents,
We have but troubled sleep;
We are the Baby Innocents,
And we can only weep.
We never felt the arm
Of pity fondling us to rest,
Or shielding from the harm.
We see but hateful bursts of sin,
The blow or bloody stain;
We poisoned are with dirt and gin,
And, prisoned, writhe in pain.
Our dress is rags and gaping rents,
We have but troubled sleep;
We are the Baby Innocents,
And we can only weep.
We huddled gasp in loathsome lairs,
Or crawl on clammy bricks;
We fall down creaking, crazy stairs,
And smart from demons' tricks.
We hear the drunkard's angry shout,
And things without a name;
And ever are we toss'd about,
From sorrow unto shame.
And all the woe that vice invents
Is ours, with cruel fears;
We are the Baby Innocents,
And have no voice but tears.
Or crawl on clammy bricks;
We fall down creaking, crazy stairs,
And smart from demons' tricks.
We hear the drunkard's angry shout,
And things without a name;
And ever are we toss'd about,
From sorrow unto shame.
And all the woe that vice invents
Is ours, with cruel fears;
We are the Baby Innocents,
And have no voice but tears.
Some of us daily die to live,
While some just live to die;
And nothing more the earth can give,
Than dust wherein we lie.
And some are slain by mothers' hands,
While some are spared to ache;
And all are bound with grievous bands,
The grave alone will break.
The world is full of ill intents,
And mix'd with bitter leaven;
We are the Baby Innocents,
We have no home but Heaven.
While some just live to die;
And nothing more the earth can give,
Than dust wherein we lie.
And some are slain by mothers' hands,
While some are spared to ache;
And all are bound with grievous bands,
The grave alone will break.
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And mix'd with bitter leaven;
We are the Baby Innocents,
We have no home but Heaven.
| Women must weep | |