AN INSINCERE WISH ADDRESSED TO A BEGGAR - Arthur Conan Doyle Poems

 
 

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AN INSINCERE WISH ADDRESSED TO A BEGGAR

We are not near enough to love,
    I can but pity all your woe;
For wealth has lifted me above,
    And falsehood set you down below.

If you were true, we still might be
    Brothers in something more than name;
And were I poor, your love to me
    Would make our differing bonds the same.

But golden gates between us stretch,
    Truth opens her forbidding eyes;
You can't forget that I am rich,
    Nor I that you are telling lies.

Love never comes but at love's call,
    And pity asks for him in vain;
Because I cannot give you all,
    You give me nothing back again.

And you are right with all your wrong,
    For less than all is nothing too;
May Heaven beggar me ere long,
    And Truth reveal herself to you!