Compassion

 A beggar in the street I saw,
Who held a hand like withered claw,
 As cold as clay;
But as I had no silver groat
To give, I buttoned up my coat
 And turned away.

And then I watched a working wife
Who bore the bitter load of life
 With lagging limb;
A penny from her purse she took,
And with sweet pity in her look
 Gave it to him.

Anon I spied a shabby dame
Who fed six sparrows as they came
 In famished flight;
She was so poor and frail and old,
Yet crumbs of her last crust she doled
 With pure delight.

Then sudden in my heart was born
For my sleek self a savage scorn,--
 Urge to atone;
So when a starving cur I saw
I bandaged up its bleeding paw
 And bought a bone.

For God knows it is good to give;
We may not have so long to live,
 So if we can,
Let's do each day a kindly deed,
And stretch a hand to those in need,
 Bird, beast or man.

Form: Narrative

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