“A little more”, the Beggar said
As the gold dust filled his worn sack.
“It will vanish”, said the Fairy
“If it hits the earth
And scatter like the morning mist.”

“A little more”, the Beggar begged
“A little more, a grain or two”
“The sack will burst”, the Fairy said
“A little more and that will do”
“Hear me, no more will fit”
“I do, I do,” the Beggar said
“Another grain and that is it.”

The sack strained against the weight
“It will split”, the Fairy cried.
“It won’t, it won’t upon my word”
The eyes were glazed with greed and pride.

Dreams built up of how he’d feel
No more rags, or down at heel
But wealth and all that wealth can give
A classic tale of how to live
His eyes bulge now, his mouth is dry
The bony arms reach to the sky
The flimsy sack at straining point
He saw it all in his mind’s eye.

“Watch out”, he heard the Fairy scream
The sack it ripped along the seam
The Beggar watched in grim dismay
The gold slid down in fine array
“I told you so, but would you heed,
Your heart was filled with pride and greed.”

“Much wants more”, the Beggar mused
“Wealth left me dizzy and confused,
I’m worse off now than I was before
The power of gold was at my door.”

“Please come back”, the Beggar begged
“Too late, too late”, the Fairy said
And vanished in the morning mist.
Alone and sad a Beggar stands
With a useless sack in his bony hands.

Jane Casey