Who look upon me may be shaken deep
By sufferings; O let me curse their sleep,
A devil’s dance, a demon’s wicked laughter,—
To haunt them for a space; so they may know
How sleek and fat their spirits are; and after,
When they have prospered of me, I will go;
Grant me but this, and I am well content.
Then strike me quickly, God, for I am spent.
Yet,—lift me from these streets before I die.