Poems, in Two Volumes (Wordsworth, 1807)/Volume 1/Beggars
For other versions of this work, see Beggars.
POEMS
COMPOSED
DURING A TOUR, CHIEFLY ON FOOT.
1
BEGGARS.
She had a tall Man's height, or more;No bonnet screen'd her from the heat;A long drab-colour'd Cloak she wore,A Mantle reaching to her feet:What other dress she had I could not know;Only she wore a Cap that was as white as snow.
In all my walks, through field or town,Such Figure had I never seen:Her face was of Egyptian brown:Fit person was she for a Queen,To head those ancient Amazonian files:Or ruling Bandit's Wife; among the Grecian Isles.
Before me begging did she stand,Pouring out sorrows like a sea;Grief after grief:—on English LandSuch woes I knew could never be;And yet a boon I gave her; for the CreatureWas beautiful to see; a Weed of glorious feature!
I left her, and pursued my way;And soon before me did espyA pair of little Boys at play,Chasing a crimson butterfly;The Taller follow'd with his hat in hand,Wreath'd round with yellow flow'rs, the gayest of the land.
The Other wore a rimless crown,With leaves of laurel stuck about:And they both follow'd up and down,Each whooping with a merry shout;Two Brothers seem'd they, eight and ten years old;And like that Woman's face as gold is like to gold.
They bolted on me thus, and lo!Each ready with a plaintive whine;Said I, "Not half an hour agoYour Mother has had alms of mine.""That cannot be," one answer'd, "She is dead.""Nay but I gave her pence, and she will buy you bread."
"She has been dead, Sir, many a day.""Sweet Boys, you're telling me a lie;"It was your Mother, as I say—"And in the twinkling of an eye,"Come, come!" cried one; and, without more ado,Off to some other play they both together flew.