The Poet-Beggar

Impelled by hunger, forth I strode, But whither causing little care, While feeling life's oppressive load— Too great for me to bear. At last your village here I reached, By tramping many weary miles, And knocking at an unknown door, You welcomed me with smiles. And when I roughly asked for food, Gave meat and wine my need to sate, And in a kind and friendly mood You chatted while I ate. Now having shared your generous cheer, And drained the oft refillèd glass, Revived and glad, unthanked I fear To let such goodness pass. A linen-bleacher, poor and old, Fed Han-Sin,[68] sprung of royal breed, From out her hard-earned scanty store In time of darkest need. Your kindly help to me this hour Is fraught with equal love and grace, Would I had Han-Sin's royal power, Thy bounty to replace. Alas! the fullness of my heart My tongue can only lamely tell, So now in simple verse I write Of kindness done so well. And though at last the muffled drum Will beat the end of earthly days, Throughout the cycles yet to come My verse shall speak your praise.