Madeline With other poems and parables: By Thomas Gordon Hake |
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ON CHARITY. |
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Madeline | ||
239
XXXVIII. ON CHARITY.
Charity, thou whose maiden name
Was never changed for mortal love,
Now as of old who art the same,
To sorrow's home the holy dove;
Is all thy beauty dim and worn,
Veiled since the hour when woe was born?
Was never changed for mortal love,
Now as of old who art the same,
To sorrow's home the holy dove;
Is all thy beauty dim and worn,
Veiled since the hour when woe was born?
Charity, who with unshut ear
Hast tended at the cripple's door,
Thou art content to ask and bear
The one-toned story of the poor!
Still the same tale, so often told,
Creeps to thy bosom from the cold.
Hast tended at the cripple's door,
Thou art content to ask and bear
The one-toned story of the poor!
Still the same tale, so often told,
Creeps to thy bosom from the cold.
Art thou perchance the long-lost star
Not fallen but immortal still,
Which missed and mourned by all afar
Art here with souls who suffer ill?
Charity, hast thou left yon sphere
To do the work of pity here?
Not fallen but immortal still,
Which missed and mourned by all afar
Art here with souls who suffer ill?
Charity, hast thou left yon sphere
To do the work of pity here?
240
EPODE.
What, murmur still and still devoutly strainThe feeling element from pain to pain?
If charity began at home, how few
Were called upon its tributes to renew!
Madeline | ||