Turned their gaze,
Earnest and pitiful, on the ways
Where the poor, burdened sons of toil
Earned their bread amid dust and moil.
Saw the dim attics where, day by day,
Women were stitching their lives away,
Bending low o’er the slender steel
Till heart and brain began to reel,
And their days
Stretched on and on in a dreary maze.