 | The various writings of Cornelius Mathews |  |
XVI.
THE POOR MAN.
Free paths and open tracts about us lie,
'Gainst Fortune's spite, though deadliest to undo:
On him who droops beneath the saddest sky,
Hopes of a better time must flicker through.
'Gainst Fortune's spite, though deadliest to undo:
On him who droops beneath the saddest sky,
Hopes of a better time must flicker through.
No yoke that evil hours would on him lay,
Can bow to earth his unreturning look;
The ample fields through which he plods his way
Are but his better Fortune's open book.
Can bow to earth his unreturning look;
The ample fields through which he plods his way
Are but his better Fortune's open book.
Though the dark smithy's stains becloud his brow,
His limbs the dank and sallow dungeon claim;
The forge's light may take the halo's glow,
An angel knock the fetters from his frame.
His limbs the dank and sallow dungeon claim;
The forge's light may take the halo's glow,
An angel knock the fetters from his frame.
In deepest needs he never should forget
The patient Triumph that beside him walks,
Waiting the hour, to earnest labor set,
When, face to face, his merrier Fortune talks.
The patient Triumph that beside him walks,
Waiting the hour, to earnest labor set,
When, face to face, his merrier Fortune talks.
Plant in thy breast a measureless content,
Thou Poor Man, cramped with want or racked with pain,
Good Providence, on no harsh purpose bent,
Has brought thee there, to lead thee back again.
Thou Poor Man, cramped with want or racked with pain,
Good Providence, on no harsh purpose bent,
Has brought thee there, to lead thee back again.
No other bondage is upon thee cast
Save that wrought out by thine own erring hand;
By thine own act, alone, thine image placed—
Poorest or President, choose thou to stand.
Save that wrought out by thine own erring hand;
By thine own act, alone, thine image placed—
Poorest or President, choose thou to stand.
A man—a man through all thy trials show!
Thy feet against a soil that never yielded
Other than life, to him that struck a rightful blow
In shop or street, warring or peaceful-fielded!
Thy feet against a soil that never yielded
Other than life, to him that struck a rightful blow
In shop or street, warring or peaceful-fielded!
| The various writings of Cornelius Mathews | |