The rich man turned with humble head,—
"I will send my dogs to lick your sores!"
SHE TOLD HER BEADS
She told her beads with down-cast eyes,
Within the ancient chapel dim;
And ever as her fingers slim
Slipt o'er th' insensate ivories,
My rapt soul followed, spaniel-wise.
Ah, many were the beads she wore;
But as she told them o'er and o'er,