West London

Crouch'd on the pavement, close by Belgrave Square, A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied. A babe was in her arms, and at her side A girl; their clothes were rags, their feet were bare.

Some labouring men, whose work lay somewhere there, Pass'd opposite; she touch'd her girl, who hied Across, and begg'd, and came back satisfied. The rich she had let pass with frozen stare.

Thought I: "Above her state this spirit towers; She will not ask of aliens, but of friends, Of sharers in a common human fate.

"She turns from that cold succour, which attends The unknown little from the unknowing great, And points us to a better time than ours."