Gladys Cromwell: The Beggar (Poem)

The Beggar

Showing his ill-made frame
And mumbling of troubles many,
Along a public street,

The cripple calls for a penny.
Inviting sympathy,
By his rags and his withered arm,
He follows and frets till we argue

A penny can do him no harm.
Just now, in this intimate room,
Sagacious, clever and witty,

Exposing his hardships, a Beggar
Beckoned his friends for pity.
Ugh! By displaying his pains,
By showing his heart was ashen,

By revealing his twisted life,
He played for a glance of compassion.
Strange how I longed to laugh ;

His feebleness was funny.
I thought : ” He’s only a Beggar
And affection is golden money.

Gladys Cromwell
(1885-1919)
The Beggar
From: Poems 1919

• fleursdumal.nl magazine

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