the story of two lives.
17
I trembled not, but, calm, I met his eye,
Which scanned me through, and yet I did not die.
No love was in my life, I learned "to smile
Beneath the gas," my heart all cold the while;
Deaf, dumb, and blind, a prey to passions rude;
Alas! I had no home, no bed, no food!
Which scanned me through, and yet I did not die.
No love was in my life, I learned "to smile
Beneath the gas," my heart all cold the while;
Deaf, dumb, and blind, a prey to passions rude;
Alas! I had no home, no bed, no food!
I strove to 'scape from this accursed state
One dismal eve, I stood beside a gate,
It was a "Refuge," and I trembling rung . . .
"No room—all full;" the iron portal swung,
And I was left without—and that hope died—
In vain three more, my weary footsteps tried:
At last the workhouse.[1] Oh my God! the shame,
The Board of Guardians and their cruel blame;
The terrors of those cells, that dread dark ward,
Its jeering blasphemies, its vice ignored,
Unguessed, by even such as I till then . . .
Is there a lower Hell? Yet righteous men
Have dreamed that here was refuge, peace, reform,
A shelter from the world's inclement storm.
Herded together, ruled by gyve and rope,
Evil grew rampant, evil with no hope
One dismal eve, I stood beside a gate,
It was a "Refuge," and I trembling rung . . .
"No room—all full;" the iron portal swung,
And I was left without—and that hope died—
In vain three more, my weary footsteps tried:
At last the workhouse.[1] Oh my God! the shame,
The Board of Guardians and their cruel blame;
The terrors of those cells, that dread dark ward,
Its jeering blasphemies, its vice ignored,
Unguessed, by even such as I till then . . .
Is there a lower Hell? Yet righteous men
Have dreamed that here was refuge, peace, reform,
A shelter from the world's inclement storm.
Herded together, ruled by gyve and rope,
Evil grew rampant, evil with no hope
- ↑ Vide 'Uncommercial Traveller.'
