Rich and Poor, or Saint and Sinner
by Thomas Love Peacock (1785-1866)<.p>

The poor man’s sins are glaring;
In the face of ghostly warning
         He is caught in the fact
         Of an overt act—
Buying greens on a Sunday morning.

The rich man’s sins are hidden
In the pomp of wealth and station;
         And escape the sight
         Of the children of light,
Who are wise in their generation.

The rich man has a kitchen,
And cooks to dress his dinner;
         The poor who would roast
         To the baker’s must post,
And thus becomes a sinner.

The rich man has a cellar,
And a ready butler by him;
         The poor man must steer
         For his pint of beer
Where the saint can’t choose but to spy him.

The rich man’s painted windows
Hide the concerts of the quality;
         The poor can but share
         A crack’d fiddle in the air,
Which offends all sound morality.

The rich man is invisible
In the crowd of his gay society;
         But the poor man’s delight
         Is a sore in the sight,
And a stench in the nose of piety.

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