But who shall give them scorn for being so?
Yes, here they are—with gaunt and pallid faces,
With limbs ill-clad and fingers stiff and blued,
Shuffling and stamping on their pavement places,
Waiting and watching for their bit of food.
We boast of vast achievements and of power,
Of human progress knowing no defeat,
Of strange new marvels every day and hour—
And here’s the bread line in the wintry street!
Ten thousand years of war and peace and glory,