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Watch a kitten at play, A running fountain, A man splitting wood; Watch, when you like, with the children

Lean on the bridge-rail, Watch with the loafers The little feverish tug Leading its helpless line of long barges, Desperately pulling at its leash and dragging Its row of blind beggars.

If there's a small child in your path Finding his fun in the mud, Dirtying his hands and his cheeks And talking baby talk,

Don't turn aside and murmur: "Let’s leave him to the women," But pick the child up without making him cry And know how to talk to him like a story-teller and gently, As though you were a good old grandfather— While you wipe his little face and his hands.

And if you happen, at night in a dark street, On a poor old drunken man Whom a huge policeman stands against a wall For the beastly need Of badgering with blows,

O don't say, as your fear would have you: "Let's leave him to his kind!"— Strike out with your fists!

If you chance to be going the same way With a man from the lumber-yards And you chat as you walk side by side,