The Money
They found her cold upon the bed.
The cause of death, the doctor said,
Was nothing save the lack of bread.
Her clothes were but a sorry rag
That barely hid the nakedness
Of her poor body’s piteous wreck:
Yet, when they stripped her of her dress,
They found she was not penniless;
For, in a little silken bag,
Tied with red ribbon round her neck,
Was four-pound-seventeen-and-five.
“It seems a strange and shameful thing
That she should starve herself to death,
While she’d the means to keep alive.
Why, such a sum would keep the breath
Within her body till she’d found
A livelihood: and it would bring . . .
But, there is very little doubt
She’d set her heart upon a grand
And foolish funeral—for the pride
Of poor folk, who can understand f
And so, because she was too proud
To meet death penniless, she died.”
And talking, talking, they trooped out:
And, as they went, I turned about
