  For the man whose heart and eye Are made wise by charity, Something will appear always That may have his honest praise; There will glimmer points of light In the darkest, saddest night. Thus a crowd once gathered round The dead carcase of an hound; Flung upon the open way, In the market-place it lay; And the idle multitude, Vulture-like, around it stood, One exclaiming, “I declare That he poisons quite the air:” But the next, “He is not worth Pains of putting under earth;” And against the poor dead thing Each in turn his stone must fling: Till one wiser passing by, Just exclaimed, while eagerly They were venting each his spite,— “See his teeth, how pearly white!” Straight the others, with self-blame, |
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