Classic Poem

A woman poor and a peeress proud,
A dingy room and a crushing crowd,
The gloom of death and grave and shroud,
A stifled cry and a sob, aloud.

A heart has heard and an eye has read;
A soul has writhed, and a lowered head
Is bowed, and a trembling tongue has said:
“My God! My God! And he is dead!”

A wail, a sob, and a bitter cry;
An anguished tear in a woman's eye;
A peeress' face where agony
Is carved, and a mutely murmured “Why?”

A woman stares and a peeress starts.
Without, the din of traffic's marts
Throbs in the streets. Lie far apart
Their lives; but close, so close their hearts.