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,
Shrunk away in silent shame.