tis Not When I Am Here, In These Homeless Homes, Where Sin And Shame And Disease And Foul Death Comes; 'Tis Not When Heart And Brain Would Be Still And Forget Men And Women And Children Dragged Down To The Pit: But When I Hear Them Declaiming Of "Liberty," "Order," And "Law," The Husk-Hearted Gentleman And The Mud-Hearted Bourgeois, That A Sombre Hateful Desire Burns Up Slow In My Breast To Wreck The Great Guilty Temple, And Give Us Rest!