Sent up her hungry cries.
And there were sounds of trampling feet of men
Moving in haste; and each one, as he passed,
Glanced in his neighbor’s eye; then onward dashed,
Swift as the wild sea-blast.
From every hovel-door—each portico
Of marble palaces, pale faces gazed
On the pedestrians, passing to and fro—
Mute, trembling and amazed.
And, ever and anon, that howl arose—