Classic Poem

That very night the good man left his bed,
And putting on the garments that he wore,
Deemed, while the silence answered not his tread,
He for the last time shut a poor man's door.
Then silently he sought the river shore,
His stealthy footsteps making rapid stride;
Besides the spade and iron bar he bore,
‘The big ha' bible, ance his father's pride,’
He hugged beneath his arm against his beating side.