THE CLAIM THAT HAS THE CANKER ON THE ROSE
The claim that has the canker on the rose Is mine on you, man’s claim on Paradise Hopelessly lost that ceaselessly he sighs And all unmerited God still bestows; The claim on the invisible wind that blows The flame of charity to enemies Not to the deadliest sinner, God denies— Less claim than this have I on you, God knows.
I cannot ask for any thing from you Because my pride is eaten up with shame That you should think my poverty a claim Upon your charity, knowing it is true That all the glories formerly I knew Shone from the cloudy splendour of your name.
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