Theirs is yon house that holds the parish poor,

Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door;

There, where the putrid vapors flagging play,

And the dull wheel hums doleful through the day;

There children dwell who know no parents’ care;

Parents, who know no children’s love, dwell there;

Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed,

Forsaken wives and mothers never wed;

Dejected widows with unheeded tears,

And crippled age with more than childhood-fears;