The Joy of A Smile...

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.

(Credit goes to Robert William Service)