How noble
is the charitable soul
But when
trumpets are blown of charity given
How
ignoble, how uncharitable!
The giver’s
superiority,
Underlines
the receiver’s inferiority:
You are an
orphan
I feed you,
bend down piously
To fill
your plate
It is not I
but God’s hand through me
I shrink in
embarrassment
Forgive me
I am here
and you are there
But for a
quirk of fate
I would
rather hide and donate
No one
should know
Charity
when proclaimed
Loses its
sheen
The golden
good intention
No comments:
Post a Comment