The Course of Time, Book IV by Robert Pollok

Turn now thy eye, and look on poverty!

They have no bread to eat, no tongue to ask;

No limbs to walk, no home, no house, no friend.

The long & lamentable groan, announce

The want that gnaws within;

On them rain, hail, & tempest, rudely beat,

And all the winds of heaven, in jocular mood

Sport with their withered rags, that tossed about,

And grievously burlesque the human form.