From the workhouse and the prison
Where pale as corpses newly risen,
Women, children, young and old
Groan for pain, and weep for cold —

From the haunts of daily life
Where is waged the daily strife
With common wants and common cares
Which sows the human heart with tares —

Lastly from the palaces
Where the murmur of distress
Echoes, like the distant sound
Of a wind alive around

Those prison halls of wealth and fashion
Where some few feel such compassion
For those who…