OUT IN THE WORLD.
Out in the pitiless falling rain,— Out in the chill November weather—We wander forth to earn our bread, My only child and I together;A leaden sky is overhead; Thick, shaggy clouds of dismal gray,Hang over us as though despair Would shroud the light of hope away.
The engine shrieks as though in pain, Then, panting, stops as if for breath;The cars rush madly on again, As though they fled from sin and death.I shiver in the murky air, Lift my wet eyes and glance around;In all the crowd of faces there No friend's familiar look is found.
Alone in my heart-breaking woe, Bereft of all the joy I 've known;
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