Beneath the Evening Lamplight
Beneath the evening lamplight, I sit on nature's floor
Entreating those emerging from their crystal paneled doors,
To ask a single farthing, or penny they might give,
And grant this humble beggar, a means where I might live.
And as they come and go each night they disdain to notice me,
For beneath the evening lamplight, my cup is all they see.
The carriages they click and clack upon the cobblestones,
As highborn men and ladies, go to and from their homes.
And as the snuffer has made his round, and morning chased the night,
I'll drag these lifeless legs along and wait for end of light.
For beneath the evening lamplight is my place on nature's floor,
Entreating those emerging from their crystal paneled doors.
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