Classic Poem

I met Jones on the street t'other day,
And his face was as long as King Lear's;
He appeared in so sorry a way
That he greatly excited my fears.

He'd a look that was wild as a deer's,
So I asked what had robbed him of rest,
And he answered me, almost in tears,
" I've a million I cannot invest. "

I will own I had felt rather gay
Till this sorrow assaulted my ears,
But my heart is not marble nor clay,
And misfortune makes all of us peers.
'Tis not often that any one hears
Of such trouble, it must be confessed,
And that wail I'll remember for years —
" I've a million I cannot invest. "

There are bards whom the critics all flay,
And whose verses are greeted with jeers;
There are husbands whose heads have turned gray,
For the tongues of their wives are like spears;
There are fellows with blighted careers.
And Death has robbed many a nest;
But why speak of this sorrow with sneers —
" I've a million I cannot invest? "

envoy.

'Tis a world where the sky seldom clears;
Every life has its sorrow at best —
That of Jones in this sentence appears —
" I've a million I cannot invest. "