Gratify not curio nor slant the gaze,
Blot not your sense with stain,
Chin down, eyes forward, stretch the gait,
Of him no thoughts pertain.
‘Spare some change please' calls the beggar
Ashen pitch from empty bowel,
Darkened lung and putrid tongue,
A tone so base and foul.
Empty-bellied birds they sing,
With sweet chirp lullabies,
His, off-key and coarse it rings,
And met with sullen eyes.
Your velvet grace, his silent scream
Whate'er fate the poor beggar betide,
Slip you silently from this scene,
To each your worlds divide.
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