The Beggar And The Angel
An angel burdened with self-pity
Came out of heaven to a modern city.
He saw a beggar on the street,
Where the tides of traffic meet.
A pair of brass-bound hickory pegs
Brought him his pence instead of legs.
A murky dog by him did lie,
Poodle, in part, his ancestry.
The angel stood and thought upon
This poodle-haunted beggar man.
'My life is grown a bore,' said he,
'One long round of sciamachy;
I think I'll do a little good,
By way of change from angelhood.'
He drew near to the beggar grim,
And gravely thus accosted him:
'How would you like, my friend, to fly
All day through the translucent sky;
To knock at the door of the red leaven,
And even to enter the orthodox heaven?
If you would care to know this joy,
I will surrender my employ,
And take your ills, collect your pelf,
An humble beggar like yourself.
For ages you these joys may know,
While I shall suffer here below;
And in the end we both may gain
Access of pleasure from my pain.'
The stationary vagrant said,
'I do not mind, so go ahead.'
The angel told the heavenly charm,
He felt a wing on either arm;
'Good-day,' he said, 'this floating's queer
If I should want to change next year--?'
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poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
Added by Poetry Lover
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