Classic Poem

Jessie, as I came home to-day I saw
That crippled man upon the flags we have
So often seen, who moves our pity so;
I watched him crawl along the sunny street,
Through heedless crowds, until he reached the place
Where crossings meet, and there he flung aside
His strong companions, those two crutches worn,
And sat him down upon the stones and gazed,
And gazed, and gazed. Then, Jessie, all my tears
Rose to my eyes and in the street I wept
So I could hardly speak for weeping, but
I came close up to him and paused and said,
“Oh! I could break my heart against these stones
To see you thus. I'd give my limbs to be
Utterly broken and torn, if only by
My breaking I could give you perfectness.”
He smiled at me and stared with eyes—oh! not
Like eyes that I once saw, whose grief had plucked
Majesty from despair; his had a strange
Ignorant calm, fuller of peace than pain.
Jessie, he is not sorry to lie there,
He never weeps as I wept for him then;
He finds contentment in the gaudy street,
Music in carriage wheels, a houseless home
Among the people, rest in their unrest.
I turned away; but, looking once again,
Saw how the sun rained fire upon his head;
The wan face drooped on the half-covered breast,
His eyelids closed, I thought that he was dead,—
He was but sleeping. Velvet-footed Sleep,
Threading his way amid the crowds and din,
Had taken him tenderly and laid him in
The cradle quietness. Stretched on the ground
I left him without weeping who had found
Infinite pity above him and around.