 | The Poems of Alice Meynell |  |
141
TO “A CERTAIN RICH MAN”
“I HAVE FIVE BRETHREN. . . . FATHER, I BESEECH
THEE . . . LEST THEY COME TO THIS PLACE”
St. Luke's Gospel
Thou wouldst not part thy spoil
Gained from the beggar's want, the weakling's toil,
Nor spare a jot of sumptuousness or state
For Lazarus at the gate.
Gained from the beggar's want, the weakling's toil,
Nor spare a jot of sumptuousness or state
For Lazarus at the gate.
And in the appalling night
Of expiation, as in day's delight,
Thou heldst thy niggard hand; it would not share
One hour of thy despair.
Of expiation, as in day's delight,
Thou heldst thy niggard hand; it would not share
One hour of thy despair.
Those five—thy prayer for them!
O generous! who, condemned, wouldst not condemn,
Whose ultimate human greatness proved thee so
A miser of thy woe.
O generous! who, condemned, wouldst not condemn,
Whose ultimate human greatness proved thee so
A miser of thy woe.
| The Poems of Alice Meynell | |