Sympathy



Sympathy :




I lay in sorrow, deep depressed…

My grief a proud man heard…

His looks were cold. He gave me gold.

But not a kindly word.

My sorrow passed – I paid him back.

The gold he gave me.

Then stood erect and spoke my thanks

And blesses his charity…

I lay in want, in grief and pain.

A poor man passed my way.

He bound my head. He gave me bread.

He watched me night and day.

How shall I pay him back again

For all he did to me?

Oh! Gold is great. But greater far

Is heavenly sympathy!



By
Charles Mackay






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