Like the seared leaves by autumn tempests whirled
To depths below.
Closed be each ear, let every tongue be dumb;
Nor one sad pitying tear o’er man be shed,
Though fainting at your threshold he should come,
And ask for bread.
Though woman, fleeing from the cruel grip
Of foul oppression, scarred and stained with blood,
Where from the severed veins the driver’s whip