The Tenement Babies

Shut off from the world with its light and love, A joyless prison-house save in name, With waves of sweltering heat from above,-- From around each corner one meets the same! Only ill-smelling and fetid air Is breathed by the babies God leases there!

Not a butterfly blown from the hills of green, Gives a hint of the wonderful life without; Not a rainbow of promise is ever seen,-- Nothing but crime and disease about! No vesper bell calls to praise and prayer,-- Poor little dwarf souls starving there!

Never a carol or note of bird, As he melts away in the azure blue, From the tenement house is ever heard; Nor is felt the wealth of diamond dew,-- Only curses and oaths fill the smoky air, To poison the babies God leases there!

Poor little tenement souls that grow Away from the flowers--by bricks shut in; Never the sweetness of life to know, Only surrounded by crime and sin! The pleasures of living you sure should share,-- Dear little babies God leases there!