Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/238

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Of a good deed at that most awful hourWhen riches profit not.Farmer, I'm goingTo visit Margery. She is sick I hear—Old, poor, and sick! a miserable lot,And death will be a blessing. You might send herSome little matter, something comfortable,That she may go down easier to the graveAnd bless you when she dies.FATHER.What! is she going!Well God forgive her then! if she has dealtIn the black art. I'll tell my dame of it,And she shall send her something.CURATE.So I'll say;And take my thanks for her's.[goes]FATHER.That's a good manThat Curate, Nat, of ours, to go and visit
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