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(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)

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Compassion

A beggar in the street I saw,
Who held a hand like withered claw,
As cold as clay;
But as I had no silver groat
To give, I buttoned up my coat
And turned away.

And then I watched a working wife
Who bore the bitter load of life
With lagging limb;
A penny from her purse she took,
And with sweet pity in her look
Gave it to him.

Anon I spied a shabby dame
Who fed six sparrows as they came
In famished flight;
She was so poor and frail and old,
Yet crumbs of her last crust she doled
With pure delight.

Then sudden in my heart was born
For my sleek self a savage scorn,--
Urge to atone;
So when a starving cur I saw
I bandaged up its bleeding paw
And bought a bone.

For God knows it is good to give;
We may not have so long to live,
So if we can,
Let's do each day a kindly deed,
And stretch a hand to those in need,
Bird, beast or man.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003


Read poems about / on: silver, god, heart, life, work

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Comments about this poem (A Lyric Day by Robert William Service )

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  • Hans Vr (8/11/2011 9:00:00 PM)

    Touching the core of my heart. I hope many people read this wonderful piece. I wish I could write something like this.

    5 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Marilyn Lott (8/11/2007 8:09:00 PM)

    What a wonderful message written in such
    a delicious style!

    Marilyn

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