Crouch'd on the pavement, close by Belgrave Square,
A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied.
A babe was in her arms, and at her side 
A girl; their clothes were rags, their feet were bare.
Some labouring men, whose work lay somewhere there,
Pass'd opposite; She touch'd her girl, who hied
Across, and begg'd and came back satisfied.
The rich she had let pass with a frozen stare.
Thought I: Above her state this spirit towers;
She will not ask of Aliens, but of friends,
Of sharers in a common human fate.
She turns from the cold succour, which attends 
The unknown little from the unknowing great,
And points us to a better time than ours'.