Vishesh Bohre - Sympathy

I lay in sorrow, deep distressed,
My grief a proud man heard,
his looks were cold, he gave me gold,
but not a kindly word.

My sorrow passed-I paid him back,
The gold he gave to me,
Then stood erect and spoke my thanks,
And blessed his charity.

I lay in want, and grief, and pain,
A poor man passed my way,
He bound ny heard, he gave me bread,
He watched me night and day.

How shall i pay him back again,
for all he did to me?
Oh, gold is great, but greater far,
Is heavenly sympathy.

Vishesh Bohre

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sympathy-14/