And wherefore do the Poor complain? br The rich man asked of me,-- br Come walk abroad with me, I said br And I will answer thee. br br Twas evening and the frozen streets br Were cheerless to behold, br And we were wrapt and coated well, br And yet we were a-cold. br br We met an old bare-headed man, br His locks were few and white, br I ask'd him what he did abroad br In that cold winter's night: br br 'Twas bitter keen indeed, he said, br But at home no fire had he, br And therefore, he had come abroad br To ask for charity. br br We met a young bare-footed child, br And she begg'd loud and bold, br I ask'd her what she did abroad br When the wind it blew so cold; br br She said her father was at home br And he lay sick a-bed, br And therefore was it she was sent br Abroad to beg for bread. br br We saw a woman sitting down br Upon a stone to rest, br She had a baby at her back br And another at her breast; br br I ask'd her why she loiter'd there br When the wind it was so chill; br She turn'd her head and bade the child br That scream'd behind be still. br br She told us that her husband served br A soldier, far away, br And therefore to her parish she br Was begging back her way. br br We met a girl; her dress was loose br And sunken was her eye, br Who with the wanton's hollow voice br Address'd the passers by; br br I ask'd her what there was in guilt br That could her heart allure br To shame, disease, and late remorse? br She answer'd, she was poor. br br I turn'd me to the rich man then br For silently stood he, br You ask'd me why the Poor complain, br And these have answer'd thee.