With even tramp upon the paven ground, Twice every hour the night patrol comes round To clear these wretches off, who may not keep The miserable couches they have found.
Yet the stern shepherds of the poor black sheep Will soften when they see a woman weep. There was a mother there who strove in vain, With sobs, to hush a starving child to sleep.
And through the night which took so long to wane, He saw sad sufferers relieving pain, And daughters of iniquity and scorn Performing deeds which God will not disdain.
There was a girl, forlorn of the forlorn, Whose dress was white, but draggled, soiled, and torn, Who wandered like a ghost without a home. She spoke to him before the day was born.
She, who all night, when spoken to, was dumb, Earning dislike from most, abuse from some, Now asked the hour, and when he told her `Two,' Wailed, `O my God, will daylight never come?'
Yes, it will come, and change the sky anew From star-besprinkled black to sunlit blue, And bring sweet thoughts and innocent desires To countless girls. What will it bring to you?
Never was sun so bright before, No matin of the lark so sweet, No grass so green beneath my feet, Nor with such dewdrops jewelled o'er.
I stand with thee outside the door, The air not yet is close with heat, And far across the yellowing wheat The waves are breaking on the shore.