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Perchance, O kinder thought and better hope,
Of a poor leek, I note glad tidings there
Must slumber on, but shall awake at last;
And at the trumpet's voice, shall this dry shape
WILL none befriend that poor dumb brute,
With weaker effort, gasping, mute,
Spare him, O spare:- he feels,
Faint, hunger-sick, old, blind, and ill,
The poor, or man or beast, Can battle on with life uphill, And bear its griefs at least;
Truly, their cup of gall o'erflows!
Heard ye that shriek?-O wretch, forbear,
In fear, if not in pity, spare
Heap on, heap on, fresh torments add, New schemes of torture plan ·
NO MERCY: Mercy's self is glad
To damn the cruel man.
God! God! thy whole creation groans,
Arise to Thee in vain?
The hollow eye of famine pleads,
Oppression's victim, weak and mild,
cruel world! O sickening fear Of goad, or knife, or thong;
O load of evils ill to bear!
- How long, good God, how long?
HARMLESS, happy little treasures,
Full of truth, and trust, and mirth, Richest wealth, and purest pleasures, In this mean and guilty earth.
How I love you, pretty creatures,
On these laughing rosy faces
There are no deep lines of sin, None of passion's dreary traces
That betray the wounds within;
But yours is the sunny dimple
Yours the natural curling tresses,
Prattling tongues, and shyness coy, Tottering steps, and kind caresses, Pure with health, and warm with joy.
The dull slaves of gain, or passion,
Cannot love you as they should; The poor worldly fools of fashion
Would not love you if they could.
Write them childless, those cold-hearted, Who can scorn Thy generous boon, And whose souls with fear have smarted, Lest-Thy blessings come too soon.
While he hath a child to love him,
No man can be poor indeed; While he trusts a Friend above him, None can sorrow, fear, or need.
But for thee, whose heart is lonely,
And unwarm'd by children's mirth, Spite of riches, thou art only
Desolate and poor on earth.
All unkiss'd by innocent beauty,