Thou knowest what a thing is Poverty Among the fallen on evil days: 'Tis Crime, and Fear, and Infamy, _475 And houseless Want in frozen ways Wandering ungarmented, and Pain, And, worse than all, that inward stain Foul Self-contempt, which drowns in sneers Youth's starlight smile, and makes its tears _480 First like hot gall, then dry for ever! And well thou knowest a mother never Could doom her children to this ill, And well he knew the same. The will Imported, that if e'er again _485 I sought my children to behold, Or in my birthplace did remain Beyond three days, whose hours were told, They should inherit nought: and he, To whom next came their patrimony, _490 A sallow lawyer, cruel and cold, Aye watched me, as the will was read, With eyes askance, which sought to see The secrets of my agony; And with close lips and anxious brow _495 Stood canvassing still to and fro The chance of my resolve, and all The dead man's caution just did call; For in that killing lie 'twas said-- 'She is adulterous, and doth hold _500 In secret that the Christian creed Is false, and therefore is much need That I should have a care to save My children from eternal fire.' Friend, he was sheltered by the grave, _505 And therefore dared to be a liar! In truth, the Indian on the pyre Of her dead husband, half consumed, As well might there be false, as I To those abhorred embraces doomed, _510 Far worse than fire's brief agony As to the Christian creed, if true Or false, I never questioned it: I took it as the vulgar do: Nor my vexed soul had leisure yet _515 To doubt the things men say, or deem That they are other than they seem. All present who those crimes did hear, In feigned or actual scorn and fear, Men, women, children, slunk away, _520 Whispering with self-contented pride, Which half suspects its own base lie. I spoke to none, nor did abide, But silently I went my way, Nor noticed I where joyously _525 Sate my two younger babes at play, In the court-yard through which I passed; But went with footsteps firm and fast Till I came to the brink of the ocean green, And there, a woman with gray hairs, _530 Who had my mother's servant been, Kneeling, with many tears and prayers, Made me accept a purse of gold, Half of the earnings she had kept To refuge her when weak and old. _535