 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
30
POVERTY IN A SHOWER.
“The rough river ran.”—
Hood.
Hood.
One more unfortunate,
Wet to the skin,
Very importunate,
Wants to get in.
Wet to the skin,
Very importunate,
Wants to get in.
Take him up speedily,
Stop now the 'bus;
What care though seedily
Looks he to us?
Stop now the 'bus;
What care though seedily
Looks he to us?
See, the poor fellow
Has got no umbrella,
Whilst the rain patters,
Soaking his jacket,
Hanging in tatters!—
Tin, doth he lack it?
Has got no umbrella,
Whilst the rain patters,
Soaking his jacket,
Hanging in tatters!—
Tin, doth he lack it?
Treat him not scornfully,
He is not corned fully,
He is thy brother;
Open thy door for him,
Show him there's store for him—
Room for another.
He is not corned fully,
He is thy brother;
Open thy door for him,
Show him there's store for him—
Room for another.
31
Make no deep studying
Into his muddying,
Damp and unhealthy;
Rain is a leveller,—
Treat the poor traveller
Well as if wealthy.
Into his muddying,
Damp and unhealthy;
Rain is a leveller,—
Treat the poor traveller
Well as if wealthy.
Alas for the rarity
Of practical charity
Under the sun!
O! it is pitiful,
In a whole city full,
'Brel has he none.
Of practical charity
Under the sun!
O! it is pitiful,
In a whole city full,
'Brel has he none.
Stands on the sidewalk,
After a wide walk,
Money all spent;
His deep pocket feeling,
No cash there revealing,
Not a red cent!
After a wide walk,
Money all spent;
His deep pocket feeling,
No cash there revealing,
Not a red cent!
The cold April storms
Make him tremble like aspen;
No 'bus opes its arms,
His form to be clasping;
Mad at the luck of it,
Sad at the duck of it,
Glad to be ta'en
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the rain.
Make him tremble like aspen;
No 'bus opes its arms,
His form to be clasping;
Mad at the luck of it,
Sad at the duck of it,
Glad to be ta'en
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the rain.
32
Take him up speedily,
Man of the 'bus;
Poor, he looks seedily,
Poorer his purse.
Man of the 'bus;
Poor, he looks seedily,
Poorer his purse.
In he steps gloomily,
Don't think contumely,
Don't make a pother,—
He is thy brother,
Sad and distrest;
Be now his protector,
Then leave the collector
To settle the rest!
Don't think contumely,
Don't make a pother,—
He is thy brother,
Sad and distrest;
Be now his protector,
Then leave the collector
To settle the rest!
| Rhymes with reason and without | |