West London

Crouched on the pavement, close by Belgrave Square,A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied;A babe was in her arms, and at her sideA girl; their clothes were rags, their feet were bare.

Some laboring-men, whose work lay somewhere there,Passed opposite; she touched her girl, who hiedAcross, and begged, and came back satisfied.The rich she had let pass with frozen stare.

Thought I, "Above her state this spirit towers;She will not ask of aliens, but of friends,Of sharers in a common human fate.

She turns from that cold succor, which attendsThe unknown little from the unknowing great,And points us to a better time than ours."