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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533909" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Charity</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Lo! I am Charity,' she cries,<br>'Who waketh up before the day;<br>While yet asleep all nature lies,<br>God bids me rise and go my way.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How fair her glorious features shine,<br>Whereon the hand of God hath set<br>An angel's attributes divine,<br>With all a woman's sweetness met.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Above the old man's couch of woe<br>She bows her forehead, pure and even.<br>There's nothing fairer here below,<br>There's nothing grander up in heaven,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Than when caressingly she stands<br>(The cold hearts wakening 'gain their beat),<br>And holds within her holy hands<br>The little children's naked feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To every den of want and toil<br>She goes, and leaves the poorest fed;<br>Leaves wine and bread, and genial oil,<br>And hopes that blossom in her tread,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And fire, too, beautiful bright fire,<br>That mocks the glowing dawn begun,<br>Where, having set the blind old sire,<br>He dreams he's sitting in the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, over all the earth she runs,<br>And seeks, in the cold mists of life,<br>Those poor forsaken little ones<br>Who droop and weary in the strife.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, most her heart is stirred for them,<br>Whose foreheads, wrapped in mists obscure,<br>Still wear a triple diadem--<br>The young, the innocent, the poor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they are better far than we,<br>And she bestows a worthier meed;<br>For, with the loaf of charity,<br>She gives the kiss that children need.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She gives, and while they wondering eat<br>The tear-steeped bread by love supplied,<br>She stretches round them in the street<br>Her arm that passers push aside.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If, with raised head and step alert,<br>She sees the rich man stalking by,<br>She touches his embroidered skirt,<br>And gently shows them where they lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She begs for them of careless crowd,<br>Of earnest brows and narrow hearts,<br>That when it hears her cry aloud,<br>Turns like the ebb-tide and departs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O miserable he who sings<br>Some strain impure, whose numbers fall<br>Along the cruel wind that brings<br>Death to some child beneath his wall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O strange and sad and fatal thing,<br>When, in the rich man's gorgeous hall,<br>The huge fire on the hearth doth fling<br>A light on some great festival,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To see the drunkard smile in state,<br>In purple wrapt, with myrtle crowned,<br>While Jesus lieth at the gate<br>With only rags to wrap him round.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+Hugo">Victor Hugo</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533909" data-title="Charity de Victor Hugo" data-description="'Lo! I am Charity,' she cries,
'Who waketh up before the day;
While yet asleep all nature lies,
God bids me rise and go my way.'

How fair her glorious features shine,
Whereon the hand of God hath set
An angel's attributes divine,
With all a woman..."></div>
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