Isaac Meek


Hook-nosed was I, loose-lipped; greed fixed its gaze
In my young eyes ere they knew brass from gold;
Doomed to the blazing market-place my days —
A sweated chafferer of the bought and sold.
Fawned on and spat at, flattered and decried —
One only thing men asked of me, my price.
I lived, detested; and deserted, died,
Scorned by the virtuous, and the jest of vice.
And now, behold, blest child of Christ, my worth;
Stoop close: I have inherited the earth!
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