Classic Poem

'Tis in this sence that I am poor,
And I'me afraid shall be so still,
Obstrep'rous Creditors besiege my door,
And my whole House clamorous Eccho's fill;
From these there can be no Retirement free,
From Room to Room, they hunt, and follow me;
They will not let me eat, nor sleep, nor pray,
But persecute me Night, and Day;
Torment my body, and my mind,
Nay, if I take my heels, and fly,
They follow me with open Cry,
At Home no rest, Abroad no Refuge can I find.