A hand touched me. I felt a foul glance fall
Upon me, and words that did my heart appal.
Appal! but more appalling
The hunger, O ye proud ones, that did drive me,
And the old mother's mute and maddening stare!
And so it came that I took bread to her!
But all desire for me her fast had stilled.
Hardly on me she raised her heavy eyes,
While I on my poor mother's breast would claim
A place where I might hide my face and shame.