 | My Sonnets |  |
[Scorn none, but look upon the poor, the low]
Scorn none, but look upon the poor, the low,The toiling, nay, the guilty, but with eyes
Where pity sits with gentle tears. Be wise
Ye who, strong in the pride of what ye know,
Dare, on the dark in mind, to trample. Go,
Ponder and learn true wisdom, nor despise
One of your fellows, for, in him, there lies
The might of thought; sweet fancies sleep below
His careworn, wrinkled brows, that would have broke,
Perchance, into sweet words, if, like to ye,
Knowledge, his birthright, had, in childhood, woke
Them from their dreaming slumbers. Think, to be
Like him, your lot might have been. Pour not gall
Into his bitter cup.—Scorn none! love all!
November 19th, 1842.
| My Sonnets | |