The Mendicant
By Clinton Scollard
Like some way-weary mendicant came I
Unto the court where Love holds potent reign,
And there in desolation I was fain
Before the gateway to lie down and die.
But one came forth who heard my mournful cry,
Nor mocked nor spurned me with a cold disdain,
But cheered me, saying, “Do not nurse thy pain!
Be brave and bid the ghosts of dead days fly!”
Then I arose and cast the Past aside,
And felt within my breast a gladness great
That I dared meet the eyes that beamed above:
And all the future time was glorified,
For I, who was a beggar at the gate,
Became a dweller in the court of Love.