London
The gorgeous stream of England’s wealth goes by,
Mixed with the mud and refuse, as of old—
The hungry, homeless, naked, sick and cold;
Want mocked by waste and greedy luxury.
There, in their downy carriage– cushions, lie
Proud women whose fair bodies have been sold
And bought for coronet or merchant gold—
For whose base splendours envious maidens sigh.
Some day the social ban will fall on them—
On wanton rich who taunt their starving kin;
Some day the social judgment will condemn
These “wedded harlots” in their shame and sin.
A juster world shall separate them then
From all pure women and all honoured men.
