ONE more Unfortunate,   Weary of breath, Rashly importunate,   Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,   Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly   Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; Whilst the wave constantly   Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly,   Loving, not loathing.

Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully,   Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her   Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny   Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour, Death has left on her   Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,   One of Eve's family— Wipe those poor lips of hers   Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses   Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses   Where was her home?

Who was her father?   Who was her mother? Had she a sister?   Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one   Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity Of Christian charity   Under the sun! O, it was pitiful! Near a whole city full,   Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly   Feelings had changed: Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence   Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver So far in the river,   With many a light From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement,   Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March   Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery,   Swift to be hurl'd— Anywhere, anywhere   Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly— No matter how coldly   The rough river ran— Over the brink of it, Picture it—think of it,   Dissolute Man! Lave in it, drink of it,   Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly,   Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly,   Young, and so fair!

Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly,   Decently, kindly, Smooth and compose them; And her eyes, close them,   Staring so blindly!

Dreadfully staring   Thro' muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing   Fix'd on futurity.

Perishing gloomily, Spurr'd by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity,   Into her rest.— Cross her hands humbly As if praying dumbly,   Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,   Her evil behaviour, And leaving, with meekness,   Her sins to her Saviour!