[This is based on my most recent novel, Sweepings of the Street, set in industrial London in 1816. November 2019]
Sweepings of the Street
Behold, a city tainted by despair:
A dirty river splits the land in twain
White steeples and black smokestacks pierce the air,
The stars are hidden by the smoke and rain.
Within the wasted walls of alleyways
A man leans on a crutch; a child cries;
A girl totes water through the twisted maze
As for the golden fields of home she sighs.
And far above this godforsaken land
A child, clad in rags and with no name
Upon the blackened rooftop's edge does stand:
The ashes of a soul destroyed by flame.
O, pray you, spare a thought however fleet
For these poor souls, the sweepings of the street.