A square, squat room (a cellar on promotion), br Drab to the soul, drab to the very daylight; br Plasters astray in unnatural-looking tinware; br Scissors and lint and apothecary's jars. br br Here, on a bench a skeleton would writhe from, br Angry and sore, I wait to be admitted: br Wait till my heart is lead upon my stomach, br While at their ease two dressers do their chores. br br One has a probe-it feels to me a crowbar. br A small boy sniffs and shudders after bluestone. br A poor old tramp explains his poor old ulcers. br Life is (I think) a blunder and a shame.