Classic Poem

The Devil's auction:
The daughters of the Poor for sale.
Three dollars a week; three-and-a-half;
Four, five; five-and-a-half.
The innocent young mothers
Sold at the Devil's auction.
Eyes more precious than agates,
Chalcedony or sapphires,
Shining pools of the evening,
Wherein the stars dance,
And under the fringe of the border
Runs a liquid moon.
Cheeks more delicate than the wild-rose
Of the canyons;
Bosoms pure as pond-lilies
Swaying on ripples.
Lips dewy as Aurora new bathed
In the flattery of orient seas.
My sisters, my trusting little sisters,
Shall you not snatch at roses
Drooping heavy for the picking?
Shall you not walk in the poppied paths?
Shall you be hungry and taste not of the grapes?