To find on the coast of these islands their doom.
For I see them condemned—for the heed that they pay
To Fashion’s decrees—in a cupboard to sleep,
Where the lodging-house flea works its merciless way,
And causes its victims long vigil to keep.
Poor wretches! I think of the sum that they pay,
To be cheated by harpies who ruin their peace;
To be bitten by night and be bullied by day,
And poisoned by cooking all reeking with grease;
Whilst e’en the ozone that they yearn to obtain,