Poem by Alice Meynell

To “a Certain Rich Man”

 "I HAVE FIVE BRETHREN.... FATHER, I BESEECH
  THEE ... LEST THEY COME TO THIS PLACE"

                                          St. Luke's Gospel


Thou wouldst not part thy spoil
Gained from the beggar's want, the weakling's toil,
Nor spare a jot of sumptuousness or state
For Lazarus at the gate.

And in the appalling night
Of expiation, as in day's delight,
Thou heldst thy niggard hand; it would not share
One hour of thy despair.

Those five—thy prayer for them!
O generous! who, condemned, wouldst not condemn,
Whose ultimate human greatness proved thee so
A miser of thy woe.

1. To the Body
2. To Any Poet
3. The Day to the Night
4. Winter Trees on the Horizon
5. To Antiquity

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