The Beggar

There stood a beggar asking alms By the cathedral gate, His face bore torture marks of life— Pale, tired, blind—like fate.

Thin, tired, pale and blind he begged A crust of bread alone, And some one pausing, placed within His outstretched hand—a stone.

And even so I asked your love, I brought my dreams, my life—the while Unto my passion you replied Only with your cold smile!