The Down and Out Row

Just look at their faces, deep pictures of woe;

Pity, you worker, the down and out row.

There is bench after bench, in sun or in shade,

Filled up with the toilers who haven’t quite made.

Look not with suspicion, nor yet with disdain,

Their souls may be free as your own from a stain;

A sense of respect at least you can show

When passing in silence the down and out row.

For all that we know an injustice lies

Behind the dull look of those dull looking eyes;

Ill-health might have been at the bottom of one,

Another perchance has been heartlessly done.

No doubt some are failures from causes their own,

And by whirlwinds of fate are hitherward blown,

But not all are at fault, and God pity their woe,

And lay a warm hand on the down and out row.

April 22, ‘10