 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
248
THE BEGGAR.
I am but a beggar,
A wretch and an outcast;
No health in my body,
No joy in my spirit;
Despised and neglected,
Lame, crooked, and wretched,
I crawl at thy gateway
To wait for thy coming,
For I love thee, my glory,
My life, my beloved!
A wretch and an outcast;
No health in my body,
No joy in my spirit;
Despised and neglected,
Lame, crooked, and wretched,
I crawl at thy gateway
To wait for thy coming,
For I love thee, my glory,
My life, my beloved!
I wait for thy coming
All night at thy portals,
In my rags I await thee,
In sorrow and longing.
I watch the lights shining
And moving above me,
And my heart goes up to thee
In loving and longing,
For I love thee, my gladness,
My hope, my beloved!
All night at thy portals,
In my rags I await thee,
In sorrow and longing.
I watch the lights shining
And moving above me,
And my heart goes up to thee
In loving and longing,
For I love thee, my gladness,
My hope, my beloved!
I wait till thy portals
Swing wide in the morning,
And thou with thy splendors
Before us appearest
Desiring, yet fearing,
The sword of thy glances;
For how shall the outcast
Dare gaze at thy glory;
Yet I love thee, my gladness,
My life, my beloved!
Swing wide in the morning,
249
Before us appearest
Desiring, yet fearing,
The sword of thy glances;
For how shall the outcast
Dare gaze at thy glory;
Yet I love thee, my gladness,
My life, my beloved!
What have I to give thee
That thou shouldst accept me?
How dare I to hope, then,
That thou wilt not spurn me?
No goodness—no beauty
Is mine—and no riches,
But a human heart only
That praises and trembles;
For I love thee, my gladness,
My life, my salvation!
That thou shouldst accept me?
How dare I to hope, then,
That thou wilt not spurn me?
No goodness—no beauty
Is mine—and no riches,
But a human heart only
That praises and trembles;
For I love thee, my gladness,
My life, my salvation!
With the wretched I wander,
My life is uncleanly,
I yield to temptation,
And drink at the tavern;
Yet in the still foot-paths
Of thought I adore thee,
In the filth of my vices
I kneel down to praise thee;
For I love thee, my gladness,
My life, my salvation!
My life is uncleanly,
I yield to temptation,
And drink at the tavern;
Yet in the still foot-paths
Of thought I adore thee,
In the filth of my vices
I kneel down to praise thee;
For I love thee, my gladness,
My life, my salvation!
250
Each law of thy kingdom
I 've wilfully broken;
Without, I am abject,
Within, I am loathsome;
I ask not for justice,
For that would destroy me;
I cry for forgiveness,
Oh! save and forgive me;
For I love thee, and fear thee,
My life, my salvation!
I 've wilfully broken;
Without, I am abject,
Within, I am loathsome;
I ask not for justice,
For that would destroy me;
I cry for forgiveness,
Oh! save and forgive me;
For I love thee, and fear thee,
My life, my salvation!
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |