Look in,—for gnawing lime hath half consumed the carcases;
Thus they hurl the daily dead into that horrible pit,
The dead that only died this day,—as unconsidered offal!
There, a stark white heap, unwept, unloved, uncared for,
Old men and maidens, young men and infants, mingle in hideous corruption;
Fling in the gnawing lime,—seal up the charnel for a year;
For lo, a morrow's dawn hath tinged the mountain summit.
O fair false city, thou gay and gilded harlot,
Woe, for thy wanton heart, woe, for thy wicked hardness:
Woe unto thee, that the lightsomeness of Life, beneath Italian suns,