Rose and Roof-Tree — A Face in the Street

A FACE IN THE STREET.

Poor, withered face, that yet was once so fair, Grown ashen-old in the wild fires of lust-- Thy star-like beauty, dimm'd with earthly dust, Yet breathing of a purer native air;-- They who whilom, cursed vultures, sought a share Of thy dead womanhood, their greed unjust Have satisfied, have stripped and left thee bare.

Still, like a leaf warped by the autumn gust, And driving to the end, thou wrapp'st in flame And perfume all thy hollow-eyed decay, Feigning on those gray cheeks the blush that Shame Took with her when she fled long since away.

Ah God!

rain fire upon this foul-souled city That gives such death, and spares its men,--for pity!