A Poor Man
Had I been born a stone, I might have been
Free from that curse—a heart: but I bear in me
A throbbing devil, who will never sleep.
I am possessed! Care, Care,—the cruel pain
Which children bring upon the parents' soul,
Eats into mine, corrodes, and cankers it.
You laugh—‘ I do not starve ’—not yet, not yet:
But wait to-morrow! Famine will be here.
In the mean time, we 've still grim Care, (whose tooth
Is like the tiger's,—sharp,) lest dreams should fall
And shadow us with sweet forgetfulness.
Free from that curse—a heart: but I bear in me
A throbbing devil, who will never sleep.
I am possessed! Care, Care,—the cruel pain
Which children bring upon the parents' soul,
Eats into mine, corrodes, and cankers it.
You laugh—‘ I do not starve ’—not yet, not yet:
But wait to-morrow! Famine will be here.
In the mean time, we 've still grim Care, (whose tooth
Is like the tiger's,—sharp,) lest dreams should fall
And shadow us with sweet forgetfulness.
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