Classic Poem

Hurriedly, she bent
Above her grim companion, in whose ear
She mutter'd, hoarse and quick ... " Make haste! see here.
There's bread enough for all of us. Get up!
Quick! quick! and come away. To-night we'll sup,
To-morrow we'll not starve ... another day,
Another ... and then, let come what come may!
Off! off! "
No answer.
To the stolid sky
The stolid face was turn'd immovably.
The sky was dark: the face was dark. The face
And sky were silent both: you could not trace
The faintest gleam of light in the dark look
Of either.
Vehemently the woman shook
That miserable mass of rags. It let
Itself be shaken: did not strive to get
Up, or away: said nought. A worried rat
So lets itself be shaken by a cat
Or mastiff, when the vermin's back, 'tis clear,
Is snapp'd, and there's no more to feel, or fear.
Then o'er the living woman's face there spread
Death's hue reflected.
" Late! ... too late! " she said.
" O Heaven, to die thus! "
With a broken wail
She turn'd, and fled fast, fast.
Fled whither?