The Three Beggars

Though to my feathers in the wet,     I have stood here from break of day,     I have not found a thing to eat     For only rubbish comes my way.     Am I to live on lebeen-lone?     Muttered the old crane of Gort.     For all my pains on lebeen-lone.     King Guari walked amid his court     The palace-yard and river-side     And there to three old beggars said:     You that have wandered far and wide     Can ravel out whats in my head.     Do men who least desire get most,     Or get the most who most desire?     A beggar said: They get the most     Whom man or devil cannot tire,     And what could make their muscles taut     Unless desire had made them so.     But Guari laughed with secret thought,     If that be true as it seems true,     One of you three is a rich man,     For he shall have a thousand pounds     Who is first asleep, if but he can     Sleep before the third noon sounds.     And thereon merry as a bird,     With his old thoughts King Guari went     From river-side and palace-yard     And left them to their argument.     And if I win, one beggar said,     Though I am old I shall persuade     A pretty girl to share my bed;     The second: I shall learn a trade;     The third: Ill hurry to the course     Among the other gentlemen,     And lay it all upon a horse;     The second: I have thought again:     A farmer has more dignity.     One to another sighed and cried:     The exorbitant dreams of beggary,     That idleness had borne to pride,     Sang through their teeth from noon to noon;     And when the second twilight brought     The frenzy of the beggars moon     They closed their blood-shot eyes for naught.     One beggar cried: Youre shamming sleep.     And thereupon their anger grew     Till they were whirling in a heap.     Theyd mauled and bitten the night through     Or sat upon their heels to rail,     And when old Guari came and stood     Before the three to end this tale,     They were commingling lice and blood.     Times up, he cried, and all the three     With blood-shot eyes upon him stared.     Times up, he cried, and all the three     Fell down upon the dust and snored.     Maybe I shall be lucky yet,     Now they are silent, said the crane.     Though to my feathers in the wet     Ive stood as I were made of stone     And seen the rubbish run about,     Its certain there are trout somewhere     And maybe I shall take a trout     If but I do not seem to care.