THE BEGGAR
BY JAMES W. FOLEY
ALWAYS beside me as I go my way
This beggar, Time, walks with his outstretched palms,
Demanding, not beseeching, of me alms—
Alms of the precious hours of my day.
So side by side we walk until my day
Is growing dusk, and Time’s purse of the years
Holds alms of mine, bright-jeweled with my tears,
Since I have given these treasured hours away.
Nor from his swollen purse will he give me
One hour, although with spendthrift song and gay
I flung him alms, nor ever said him nay.
A beggar and a miser both is he!
