In the Country

Can I admire the statue great,

When living men starve at its feet!

Can I admire the park’s green tree,

A roof for homeless misery!

When I can see few men in need,

I then have power to help by deed,

Nor lose my cheerfulness in pity—

Which I must do in every city.

For when I am in those great places,

I see ten thousand suffering faces;

Before me stares a wolfish eye,

Behind me creeps a groan or sigh.