Crouch'D On The Pavement Close By Belgrave Square A Tramp I Saw, Ill, Moody, And Tongue-Tied; A Babe Was In Her Arms, And At Her Side A Girl; Their Clothes Were Rags, Their Feet Were Bare. Some Labouring Men, Whose Work Lay Somewhere There, Pass'D Opposite; She Touch'D Her Girl, Who Hied Across, And Begg'D And Came Back Satisfied. The Rich She Had Let Pass With Frozen Stare. Thought I: Above Her State This Spirit Towers; She Will Not Ask Of Aliens, But Of Friends, Of Sharers In A Common Human Fate. She Turns From That Cold Succour, Which Attends The Unknown Little From The Unknowing Great, And Points Us To A Better Time Than Ours.