Most she touched me
By her muteness;
Most she won me
By the way
She presented her small
Figure—
Plea for charity.
Were a crumb my whole
Possession,
Were there famine in
The land,
Were it my resource
From starving,
Could I such a face
Withstand?
Not upon her knee
To thank me
Sank this Beggar
From the sky,
But the crumb partook,
Departed,
And returned on high
I supposed, when sudden—
Such a praise began,
‘Twas as Space sat singing
To herself and Man.
‘Twas the wingéd Beggar
Afterward I learned,
To her benefactor
Paying gratitude.
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