Thoughts are thine which have no part
With the meek and pure of heart.…
Thoughts of strife and hate and wrong
Sweep thy heated brain along—
Fading hopes for whose success
It were sin to breathe a prayer;
Schemes which Heaven may never bless;
Tears which darken to despair.”
His heart is as stone to the pitiful appeal of the contrite and broken-hearted girl. “Off!” he exclaims—
“‘Off, woman of sin! Nay, touch not me