My race brings life to the race we love.”
II.
He was sick and reeling—deadly faint;
He roamed the streets with a piteous plaint.
He had lips afoam, and eyes hard set;
He asked the mercy of all he met.
He drearily ran his death-strown race;
He found no pity in any face.
He glanced at an old friend with a moan,
There came to him back a well-aimed stone.