Classic Poem

Then with the air of one who breathless all
Awaits the footsteps of the fated deer,
He leaned for succor on the friendly wall
And listened to the language of the seer:—
‘Adversity's cold winds have blown you here!
So drifts a helmless hulk upon the seas;
But let the thought your drooping spirits cheer,
The very wind that does the beggar freeze
Wafts others gaily on to honor and to ease.’