Author Josephine Preston Peabody Hunger of the world,When we ask a grace,Be remembered here with us,By the vacant place.Thirst, with nought to drink,Sorrow more than mine,May God someday make you laugh,With water turned to wine. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 2 (2 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments