| |
| HE’S something in the city. Who shall say | |
| His fortune was not honorably won? | |
| Few people can afford to give away | |
| As he, or help the poor as he has done. | |
| |
| Neat in his habits, temperate in his life: | 5 |
| Oh, who shall dare his character besmirch? | |
| He scarcely ever quarrels with his wife, | |
| And every Sabbath strictly goes to church. | |
| |
| He helps the village club, and in the town | |
| Attends parochial meetings once a week, | 10 |
| Pays for each purchase ready-money down: | |
| Is anyone against him?—Who will speak? | |
| |
| There is a widow somewhere in the north, | |
| On whom slow ruin gradually fell, | |
| While she, believing that her God was wroth, | 15 |
| Suffered without a word—or she might tell. | |
| |
| And there’s a beggar somewhere in the west, | |
| Whose fortune vanished gradually away: | |
| Now he but drags his limbs in horror lest | |
| Starvation feed on them—or he might say. | 20 |
| |
| And there are children stricken with disease, | |
| Too ignorant to curse him, or too weak. | |
| In a true portrait of him all of these | |
| Must figure in the background—they shall speak. | |
| |
