Thou sov’reign of the needy poor,
What swarms of wretches throng thy door!
The old, the young, by turns succeed,
And call on thee to help their need:
Among the changing motley crowd,
Are seen the thoughtless, and the proud,
Who to thy mighty nod attend,
Compell’d to own thee for a friend,
And often stoop to meanness low,
For cash which thou hast to bestow;
And though they oft at mis’ry frown,
Are in thy presence, then, brought down:
Next, wretches, to obtain their end,
To thee their bodies servile bend;
Whilst thou, in answer to their cant,
Roughly bawl out–“What d’ye want?”
Yet thou a useful person art,
And yield’st relief to many a heart;
And though thou art so much abus’d,
Thou’rt good, when thou’rt rightly us’d;
Yet, to speak truth, I freely own,
I’d rather not to thee be known.
(Elizabeth Beverley)
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Based on Topics: Youth Poems, Friendship Poems, Success Poems, Art Poems, Truth PoemsBased on Keywords: out-, compell, meanness, abus