Whimpering urchins unmothered shuffled
Up from the desolate murky womb.
Shadows on shadows the lone way haunted
Where one shadow the more, I stole,
Each with a soul I must take for granted—
But how to be aware of the soul?
Just the shapes of my fellow-creatures,
Dim and fitful as ghosts at dawn,
Lacking the life-pulse, void of features,
Self-encompassed, adrift, withdrawn.