HERE bounds the gaudy, gilded chair, Bedecked with fringe and tassels gay; The melancholy mourner there Pursues her sad and painful way. Here, guarded by a motley train, The pampered Countess glares along; There, wrung by poverty and pain, Pale Misery mingles with the throng. Here, as the blazoned chariot rolls, And prancing horses scare the crowd, Great names, adorning little souls, Announce the empty, vain and proud. Here four tall lacqueys slow precede A painted dame in rich array; There, the sad, shivering child of need Steals barefoot o'er the flinty way. 'Room, room! stand back!', they loudly cry, The wretched poor are driven around; On every side they scattered fly, And shrink before the threatening sound. Here, amidst jewels, feathers, flowers, The senseless Duchess sits demure, Heedless of all the anguished hours The sons of modest worth endure. All silvered and embroidered o'er, She neither knows nor pities pain; The beggar freezing at her door She overlooks with nice disdain. The wretch whom poverty subdues Scarce dares to raise his tearful eye; Or if by chance the throng he views, His loudest murmur is a sigh! The poor wan mother, at whose breast The pining infant craves relief, In one thin tattered garment dressed, Creeps forth to pour the plaint of grief. But ah! how little heeded here The faltering tongue reveals its woe; For high-born fools, with frown austere, Condemn the pangs they never know. 'Take physic, Pomp!', let Reason say: 'What can avail thy trappings rare? The tomb shall close thy glittering day, The beggar prove thy equal there!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOLDNESS IN LOVE by THOMAS CAREW CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2, FR. TULIPS by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS THE SHEPHERDESS by ALICE MEYNELL HYMN TO THE FLOWERS by HORACE SMITH TO S.M., A YOUNG AFRICAN PAINTER, ON SEEING HIS WORKS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY |