Wouldst thou love me were I a peasant,
Owning little but what hangs upon my back.
I thinkest thou would not find this so pleasant,
Discarding me for all of this world that I lack.
Wouldst thou speaketh to me were I a leper,
Or ignore me whilst turning a blind eye.
I thinkest thou would prefer me fettered,
In shackles where none could see me cry.
Wouldst thou hold me if I were a poor wretch dying,
Alone and filthy on thy city thoroughfare.
I thinkest thou would leaveth me bloody and lying,
‘Til the ravens come to taketh their share.
Is compassion so hard for thee to perceive, casting feeling aside with nary a care.
Giveth from the heart and thou shalt conceive, a life full of blessing worthy to share.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~