Eagerly he took my dime, Then shuffled on his way, Thick with sin and filth and grime, But I wondered all that day How the man had gone astray. Not to him the dime I gave; Not unto the man of woe, Not to him who should be brave, Not to him who'd sunk so low, But the boy of long ago. Passed his years of sin and shame Through the filth that all could see, Out of what he is there came One more pitiful to me: Came the boy that used to be. Smiling, full of promise glad, Stood a baby, like my own; I beheld a glorious lad, Someone once had loved and known Out of which this wreck had grown! Where, thought I, must lie the blame? Who has failed in such a way? As all children come he came, There's a soul within his clay; Who has led his feet astray? As he shuffled down the hall With the coin I'd never miss, What, thought I, were fame and all Man may gain of earthly bliss, If my child should come to this! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PICKET-GUARD [NOVEMBER, 1861] by ETHEL LYNN BEERS A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY [MAY 24, 1865] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE IMAGES: 6 by RICHARD ALDINGTON THE CRIME OF THE AGES; 1861 by AUGUSTA COOPER BRISTOL ALTERNATIVE by CHARLES TORY BRUCE A HYMN ON THE DIVINE OMNIPRESENCE by JOHN BYROM THREE EPISTLES TO G. LLOYD ON A PASSAGE FROM HOMER'S ILIAD: 2 by JOHN BYROM |