IT'S dirty, ill-smelling, Its fellows the same, With hardly a dwelling Deserving the name; It's noisy and narrow, With angles replete — Not straight as an arrow Is Poverty Street. Its houses are battered, Unheated and small, While children all tattered Respond to the call; There's nothing inviting That's likely to greet The stranger alighting In Poverty Street. But something redeeming Lies under it all; Ambition is dreaming In some little hall; Some mother is praying Successes may meet The boy who is playing In Poverty Street. Some fathers, depriving Themselves of all joys, Are valiantly striving For sake of their boys; Some sisters and brothers, In sacrifice sweet, Are living for others In Poverty Street. And ever and always Is charity shown, In alleys or hallways None suffer alone; For sorrow no blindness The suffering meet; There's millions — in kindness — In Poverty Street. Though lacking in glory And lacking in art, There's many a story Appeals to the heart; And years that are blighting With tales of defeat Find heroes still fighting In Poverty Street. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF NATURE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON OUR CHRIST by HARRY WEBB FARRINGTON TO THE DRIVING CLOUD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BY THE PACIFIC OCEAN by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE BIRTH SONG OF CHRIST by EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS TO THE LADY IN THE CHIMSETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS SONNET: 3 by RICHARD BARNFIELD LOVE SONGS: 9. A SIGH FROM OXFORD by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |