THE BEGGAR By Vilma de Coteau Her back was bent, her limbs were frail, Her hair was white as snow; Her eyes were dim but could not hide The sorrow deep below. The hand she stretched to passersby Could scarcely bear the strain, Some deigned to drop a meager coin, Some looked right off again. Thus she had stood for many years, Upon the pavement bare, ‘Dear Lord, how long must I go on,’ This was her daily prayer. ‘The rich man looks but never sees, The poor man has his cares, The young are hardly ever kind - Protect them through the years.’ Oh you who pass along the way, Please hear this beggar’s cry, This too one day may be your lot When you would pray to die. Give what you have, be not afraid Though it be but a smile, A smile, if given from within May cheer her heart awhile. Thank you Ann for submitting this beautiful poem to me. Return to Poetry page This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page
The hand she stretched to passersby Could scarcely bear the strain, Some deigned to drop a meager coin, Some looked right off again.
Thus she had stood for many years, Upon the pavement bare, ‘Dear Lord, how long must I go on,’ This was her daily prayer.
‘The rich man looks but never sees, The poor man has his cares, The young are hardly ever kind - Protect them through the years.’
Oh you who pass along the way, Please hear this beggar’s cry, This too one day may be your lot When you would pray to die.
Give what you have, be not afraid Though it be but a smile, A smile, if given from within May cheer her heart awhile.
Thank you Ann for submitting this beautiful poem to me.
Return to Poetry page
This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page