For the man’s grief abhorrent, draws and presses
Down the cheeks of infancy.”
· · · · ·
“They look up with their pale and sunken faces,
And their look is dread to see,
For they mind you of their Angels in their places,
With eyes meant for Deity:
‘How long,’ they say, ‘how long, O cruel nation,
Will you stand, to move the world, on a child’s heart,
Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,