Classic Poem

A poor woman came, she said,
To beg.
But she has been used to go a-begging,
For she has often come here.
She is a woman of strong bones
With a complexion that has been beautiful
And remained very fresh last year,
But now she looks broken,
And her little boy, a pretty little fellow
Whom I have loved for the sake of Basil,
Looks thin and pale.
He seems scarcely at all grown
Since the first time I saw him.