The Old Problem

Sorrow gushed from their eyes
And made their sad tears flow
While this way and that
They flapped their hands for ease
From the hot soil now
And now from the burning snow
Behaving, in fact, exactly
As one sees dogs in the summer
Scuffing with snout and paw
When they are eaten up
With gnats, and flies and fleas
I looked at many thus scorched by the fiery floor
And though I scanned their faces with the utmost heed
There was no one there I recognized