After the toilsome day,
Beneath a heavy load, his little steps
Failed to keep even pace with th' hurrying men,
While the rough path and the night's stormy frown
Conspired with man to drag his courage down.
The gusts of whirling snow
Beat through his ragged clothes, his wearied limbs.
He falls, and, bleeding, tries to lift himself,
But 'tis in vain; and hunger
Now drains his little strength, and at the end