Poems (Curwen)/Behold
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Behold!
"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me."—Matt. xxv. 40.
From darksome cellars, dank and chill,
From fireless attics, cold and bare,
Out of alley and slum, behold they come,
Grim spectres of famine and despair,
With poor wan faces, pinched and blue,
With frozen fingers that scarce can hold
The few poor fluttering rags that hide
Their wasted bosoms from the cold.
From fireless attics, cold and bare,
Out of alley and slum, behold they come,
Grim spectres of famine and despair,
With poor wan faces, pinched and blue,
With frozen fingers that scarce can hold
The few poor fluttering rags that hide
Their wasted bosoms from the cold.
Age and youth, and childhood frail,
With hollow eye and sunken cheek,
Gaze wistfully at the passers-by,
Whose kindly aid they often seek;
While piteous wails of babes are heard—
Starving babies at the breast—
For nature's fount by want is dried.
And vain the hungry infant's quest.
With hollow eye and sunken cheek,
Gaze wistfully at the passers-by,
Whose kindly aid they often seek;
While piteous wails of babes are heard—
Starving babies at the breast—
For nature's fount by want is dried.
And vain the hungry infant's quest.
Onward, the sad procession moves—
A desperate host by famine led—
A shivering, starving multitude,
All clamouring for bread:
Poor strugglers, who have vainly tried
To breast the tide of circumstance;
Flotsam and jetsam, drifting here
And there upon the waves of chance.
A desperate host by famine led—
A shivering, starving multitude,
All clamouring for bread:
Poor strugglers, who have vainly tried
To breast the tide of circumstance;
Flotsam and jetsam, drifting here
And there upon the waves of chance.
O ye,all ye whose generous hearts
Have throbbed with loving sympathies,
Whose kindly hands have been held out
To aid one of the least of these,
No matter what your dole has been—
The widow's mite, the rich man's gold—
If given ungrudging for Christ's sake,
He will repay a hundredfold.
Have throbbed with loving sympathies,
Whose kindly hands have been held out
To aid one of the least of these,
No matter what your dole has been—
The widow's mite, the rich man's gold—
If given ungrudging for Christ's sake,
He will repay a hundredfold.