Classic Poem

Dives and I on crowded street
An aged beggar chanced to meet;
Dives passed by with sterile frown,
And said, to argue conscience down:
" I treat all such with rule unswerving.
How can one know when they're deserving? "

" You're right, " I cried, with nodding head
(I toil for Dives for my bread);
But since the mind is heaven-born,
And earthly fetters holds in scorn,
I thought: " That wretch, and many more,
Starve through those words, " Deserving poor." "

And then, because I haply knew
How Dives rich and richer grew,
I sneered (in thought): " Such careful alms,
Such nice, discriminating qualms,
Should be observed in rule unswerving
But by the rich who are deserving. "