Than e’er she dreamed of, or could understand!
And she must blush before them, with a heart
Whose lightest throb is worth their all of life!—
They boast their charity: oh, idle boast!
They give the poor, forsooth, food, fuel, shelter!
Faint, chilled and worn, her soul implored a pittance—
Her soul asked alms of theirs—and was denied!
It was not much it came a-begging for:
A simple boon, only a gentle thought,
A kindly judgment of such deeds of hers