Once, when often neighbors hastened greatly
to their own attents, there was peace abroad
the village owing to the grace espoused
and purveyed—yea!—preached and engaged by all.

None there, fain to smear his comrade, durst to
act upon his greed; none there, skint as cats
though he be, dared his ***** thirst to feed.
None the sweat-racked work were shirking, none the
darkened alleys lurking, none the brass-starred
men besmirching, in that commis'rate vale.

"Friend, I would thy load be bearing if thou
wouldst cast it on me! Let us both go forth
while sharing words and burdens, you and me!"

"I have nought for this to give thee; I have
ne'er the smallest cent. Sold today are my
holdings, and this grain's 'gainst the harvest lent."

"Friend, I would thy payment reject if thou
were to offer it! I wish only to
walk with thee: both thy load and spirits lift!
If I could from thee goad thine sad story
I would think it a great gift. Good sir, please
betale me! I will use my soul for ears."

Down the wooden shaded dirt lane these
new partners—strangers still—bore betwixt them
borrowed grain sacks and hope of crops come.