Question

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 my head, 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
one the poet was in ​

Answer 1

Answer:

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