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In callow youth my crusty college,

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This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
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Compassion

Published by Susan on 08/02/2003 (2827 reads)
A beggar in the street I saw...

A beggar in the street I saw,
Who held a hand like withered claw,
        As cold as clay;
But as I had no silver groat
To give, I buttoned up my coat
        And turned away.

And then I watched a working wife
Who bore the bitter load of life
        With lagging limb;
A penny from her purse she took,
And with sweet pity in her look
        Gave it to him.

Anon I spied a shabby dame
Who fed six sparrows as they came
        In famished flight;
She was so poor and frail and old,
Yet crumbs of her last crust she doled
        With pure delight.

Then sudden in my heart was born
For my sleek self a savage scorn,--
        Urge to atone;
So when a starving cur I saw
I bandaged up its bleeding paw
        And bought a bone.

For God knows it is good to give;
We may not have so long to live,
        So if we can,
Let's do each day a kindly deed,
And stretch a hand to those in need,
        Bird, beast or man.


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