II.
"I have rung at the 'Refuge' bell,
I have beat at the workhouse-door,
To be told again that I clamour in vain,
They are full—they can hold no more.
Starve! starve! starve!
Of the crowds that pass me by,
Some with pity, and some in pride,
But more with indifference turn aside,
And leave me here to die!