Even the shrewd and bitter, Gnarled by the old world's greed, Cherished the stranger softly Seeing his utter need. Shelter and patient hearing, These were their gifts to him, To the minstrel, grimly begging As the sunset-fire grew dim. The rich said "You are welcome." Yea, even the rich were good. How strange that in their feasting His songs were understood! The doors of the poor were open, The poor who had wandered too, Who had slept with ne'er a roof-tree Under the wind and dew. The minds of the poor were open, Their dark mistrust was dead. They loved his wizard stories, They bought his rhymes with bread. Those were his days of glory, Of faith in his fellow-men. Therefore, to-day the singer Turns beggar once again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONOLOGUE FROM A MATTRESS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER ALICE IN WONDERLAND: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON CONSECRATION HYMN by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL EIGHT O'CLOCK by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN |