I MET a waif i' the hills at close of day. He begged an alms; I thought to say him nay. What was he? "Sir, a little dust," said he, "Which life blows up and down, and death will lay." I gave for love of beast and hill and tree, And all the dust that has been and shall be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: CONVOY ESCORT by RUDYARD KIPLING TO WORDSWORTH by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY NERVES by ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS WINTER MEMORIES by HENRY DAVID THOREAU PEREGRINUS by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE |