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Lumber Shed
The chill wind blew across the jutting quay,
And by the flickering lights hung overhead
(Men turning night to day to earn their bread)
One saw the outline of a lumber shed.
Here workmen passed with heavy-footed step,
Nor paused to think how long the shift might be.
Some walked more slowly than the others, who
Less late had known the hungry belly’s plea.
Tightening his coat around him with a cord,
For cruel winds cut like a tempered sword,
A youth, too slim for the frayed suit he wore,
Staggered and faltered with the load he bore.
Upon the shed, as low-burned lanterns flared,
The stark grim shadow of a cross appeared.