The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1870-06-30
II >cMHOcARES2
To4he unf5+taaats MS saaoeh IS searnestly and
kindly dedicated <zs Ia
II .sYs poR1 SHAW al

Tothe unf0rtdnats mis- poem isIearnestly and
kindly dedscated a Ia
Ii 4a75ssssssfF DoR1 SHAW. 81
Theethey go, ti,ro. the long. long day.
Unfieeding the sum with its piercing ray,
Unheeding thescern that their glanoes greet,
In theh hard, cold eyes of ali they meet;
Unheedipg no ,>for the passerby
May ofti11es catch q quick drawn, sigh,
That pleads IKE a voice for aliftle pity,
From the narrow hearts OF the great wide city,
Who cares? who cares;
Look with the eye Of your soul and see ..-,.s.t
That pale girl there-yesI that is She:
With wond'rous hair of seintitlant gold,
Like \ coil of sunshine careless rolled
Ger brow that knows but single stain,
o. its crimson shame o its white, white pain !;
No mothers love could spring from dust,
To shield her from mans hellIsh lust.
Who cares. who cares!
Up and down, thro' gas Lit street,
Thro' the long, long night, thro' rain and sleet,
Up and downSWith q weary tread
No matter the tears the wild eyes shed;
No matter the pain in the love-crushed heart,
No matter the cause of its endless smart;
But whatif she answers gaunt hunger's call?
No matter, we cannot forgive her fall.
Who eares2 who cares?
Up and down, and to and fro,
Wearily, languidly, come and go.
These women fair, and crushed and lost.
Frail vessels wreck'd or tempest tost. r
No kindly word on their dangerous way.
Has told where the shoals and quicksands lay.
There's q broken VOW and they're hurried down
To the sinful depths of the sinful town.
Who cares? who cares?
Up and down, through the dusty street,
Some pale as q maiden's winding sheet,
Pale with some dream of sinless yore,
OF mothers face by cottage door;
Pale with the fiat by Christians made,
No mercy for them the heart betrayed;
Pale from this thought s'Do as we may,
were barr d from the worlds own proper way"
Who cares? who cares?
Up the long street they come an1 go,
We catch their rich silks rustling fiow
upon their bosoms Jewels rare,
And the hearts beneath-oh! there, yes, there
Lies hope, perchance, by angels given,
Conceived in sin to be born in heaven;
But let not her feet near my pathway stray.
Says the Pharisee, in her proper way. ~ y +
- Who cares9 who cares?
Aye, to and fro, up and down:
Some with silk, some tattered gown;
Some with bold and desperate glance,
Hurled madly forth like keen, sharp lance,
And some with the look of wounded deer,
knowing the hhounds and death are near,
Some pleading charity, bread and pity,
But the cry is drowned in the noisy city, -
aaH s5rH-t Who cares? who cares?
Men falsely WOO, and falsely win
Pure women pardon the petty sin
Will smile on, vile on, fete and flatter,
The girl that's lost-a trifing natter -
She's gone, perchance, in her woman's shame,
To some den to change her life, her name,
Or with broken heart hope brightens never,
Has hushed its woe meath the flowing river
Who cares? who cares?
BY Magdalen's pale, pleading face
Ger which savior's eye could trace
The fall of penitential tears, -8 -
Shed for the sins of sinful fears;
And by those pard'ning words, low spoken,
To that frail woman, bow'd and broken,
By the' sin no nore'' there's pity, love,
In the city wide of the Far Abovel
He cares! He cares
THE COOKS STORY.