To the sound of pipes that glisten
Rustling wealth shall tread the aisle;
And the poor, without, shall listen,
Praying in their hearts the while.
There the veteran shall come weekly
With his cane, and bending o’er
’Mid the horses stand, how meekly,
Gazing at the open door.
But these wrongs not long shall linger—
The presumptuous pile must fall,