 | Poems |  |
83
THE POOR MAN.
Like a lion at bay,
Like a cold still day,
Stands the poor man here,
Few friends has he,
And fewer they be
With the turn of each year;
Like a cold still day,
Stands the poor man here,
Few friends has he,
And fewer they be
With the turn of each year;
Who can buy him no house,
Who cannot carouse,
Nor his neighbors delight;
Whose cabin is cold,
Whose vestment is old,
Whose heart only shineth bright.
Who cannot carouse,
Nor his neighbors delight;
Whose cabin is cold,
Whose vestment is old,
Whose heart only shineth bright.
84
They eye him askance
With a feeble glance,
Half shake him by the hand,—
'Tis the poor man, he
Hath no gold to give to me;
There are richer in the land.—
With a feeble glance,
Half shake him by the hand,—
'Tis the poor man, he
Hath no gold to give to me;
There are richer in the land.—
But the sun shineth fair
Through the blue-woven air,
To the poor man's mind;
His ears are all ready,
And his hearing is steady,
As rushes the wind.
Through the blue-woven air,
To the poor man's mind;
His ears are all ready,
And his hearing is steady,
As rushes the wind.
The seed he puts in earth,
Of its fruit hath the birth;
Tall waves the fragrant flower;
He hath carved a broad stone
That the time may be known;
The dial telleth him the hour.
Of its fruit hath the birth;
Tall waves the fragrant flower;
He hath carved a broad stone
That the time may be known;
The dial telleth him the hour.
85
The birds over his head
Their broad wings spread,
Their songs to him they sing;
The brook runs him to meet,
And washeth gently his feet,
While the meadows their joys bring.
Their broad wings spread,
Their songs to him they sing;
The brook runs him to meet,
And washeth gently his feet,
While the meadows their joys bring.
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