THE BEGGAR
There stood a beggar asking alms
By the cathedral gate,
His face bore torture marks of life—
Pale, tired, blind—like fate.
Thin, tired, pale and blind he begged
A crust of bread alone,
And some one pausing, placed within
His outstretched hand—a stone.
And even so I asked your love,
I brought my dreams, my life—the while
Unto my passion you replied
Only with your cold smile!