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To all appearances she was a down-
and-out; when she approached you, you shrank
smaller than your heart that instantly shrivelled,
your face feeling the sudden pallor of your cheeks,
as she mumbled her expected begging phrase,
the lady downstairs, who put you in your place.
She only asked for a couple of coins of the realm,
but it always was beset by principle that reared
its mighty head, and spoke judgment from lips
beneath your nose, that set out in argument
curiously mendacious, ‘I’m sorry, dear, I have
no change (only notes – unsaid)’. She would leave…
But you would call her back, as though to trump
her honest beg, and say you just remembered…
and give her two coins like the realm itself - at
least, it made you feel like royalty; you
would hush her promise to pay it back, asking
only that she learn to manage her money.
Who knows if she would knock on someone else's
door, or stop people on the pavement, she
would draw the same line, or pretence of the law
against begging, from everyone, watch them squirm,
calculate her success from their self-debate;
honesty prevail, whose breach sealed their fate.
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