A POOR wayfaring man of grief Has often cross'd me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief, That I could never answer, "Nay:" I had not power to ask his name, Whither he went, or whence he came, Yet was there something in his eye, That won my love, I knew not why. Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He enter'd; not a word he spake; -- Just perishing for want of bread; I gave him all; he blessed it, brake, And ate, -- but gave me part again; Mine was an Angel's portion then, For while I fed with eager haste, That crust was manna to my taste. I spied him, where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; his strength was gone; The heedless water mock'd his thirst, He heard it, saw it hurrying on; I ran to raise the sufferer up; Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup, Dipt and return'd it running o'er; I drank, and never thirsted more. 'T was night; the floods were out; it blew A winter hurricane aloof; I heard his voice abroad, and flew To bid him welcome to my roof; I warm'd, I clothed, I cheer'd my guest, Laid him on my own couch to rest; Then made the hearth my bed, and seem'd In Eden's garden while I dream'd. Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, I found him by the highway side; I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, Revived his spirit, and supplied Wine, oil, refreshment; he was heal'd; I had myself a wound conceal'd; But from that hour forgot the smart, And peace bound up my broken heart. In prison I saw him next, condemn'd To meet a traitor's doom at morn; The tide of lying tongues I stemm'd, And honour'd him midst shame and scorn My friendship's utmost zeal to try, He ask'd, if I for him would die; The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill, But the free spirit cried, "I will." Then in a moment to my view The stranger darted from disguise, The tokens in his hands I knew, My Saviour stood before mine eyes: He spake; and my poor name He named; "Of me thou hast not been ashamed: These deeds shall thy memorial be; Fear not, thou didst them unto Me." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN A BURYING GROUND by SARA TEASDALE THE PAINS OF SLEEP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE IRELAND; A SEASIDE PORTRAIT by JOHN JAMES PIATT AUTUMN SONG by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ON THE DEATHS OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND GEORGE ELIOT by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |