Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/88

Rh To-morrow, man? He will not hear of rest — he comes anon — Shall we within ?

Bather let 's wait, And scmtinize him as he mounts the street. Since yon denote him so remarkable, You 've whetted my desire. A blind, old man, Mayhap is all you 'U find him — spent with travel, His raiment fouled with dust, his sandaled feet Boad-bruised by stone and bramble. But his face! — Majestic with long fall of doud-white beard, And hoary wreath of hair — oh, it is one Already kissed by angels. Look, there limps little Manasseh, bloated as his purse. And wrinkled as a frost-pinched fruit. I hear His last loan to the Syndic will result In quadrupling his wealth. Good Lord ! what luck Blesses some folk, while good men stint and sweat