Archive

Saturday, March 12, 2022

Sympathy | Class 8 English Poem

I lay in sorrow, deep distressed;

My grief a proud man heard;

His looks were cold, he gave me gold;

But not a kindly word.


My sorrow passed - I paid him back

The gold he gave to me;

Then stood erect and spoke my thanks

And blessed his charity.


I lay in want, and grief, and pain;

A poor man passed my way;

He bound my head, he gave me bread,

He watched me night and day.


How shall I pay him back again

For all he did to me ?

Oh, gold is great, but greater far

Is heavenly sympathy.


✍️ Charles Mackay

No comments: