The Mob

Why stand dumbfounded and aghast,

As at invading armies sweeping by,

Surprised by haggard face and threatening cry,

The storm unheralded, that rose so fast?

Men, with gaunt wives and hungry children, cast Upon the wintry streets to thieve or die,

They cannot always suffer silently;

Patience gives out.

The poor worm turns at last.

And not ear listens to the warning call.

No eye awakes to see the portent dread.

Must brute force reign and social order fall Ere these starved millions can be clothed and fed?

A strange phenomenon, this unconcern— To live so fast and be so slow to learn!