Round Charing Cross in carrion row
The crowd press in; a sight to see;
Their mouths agape, their eyes aglow,
With morbid curiosity.
Those twisted limbs, those bandaged faces!
Humanity all broken down!
The ghostly grim procession races:
Hell's handicraft in London Town.
The bestial throng with pampered eyes —
Faces of goat or sheep or bull —
All greedy with a glad surprise
Of ghoulish horror drinking full.
Heroic citizens, well nourished,
Who feast your eyes:— What sight to see?
By you the Coliseum flourished;
You thronged, as now, round Calvary.