Long have I beat with timid hands upon life's leaden door, Praying the patient, futile prayer my fathers prayed before, Yet I remain without the close, unheeded and unheard, And never to my listening ear is borne the waited word. Soft o'er the threshold of the years there comes this counsel cool: The strong demand, contend, prevail; the beggar is a fool! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SACK OF BALTIMORE by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS THE ADMIRER by CLAUDIA EMERSON UPON THE SAYING THAT MY VERSES WERE MADE BY ANOTHER by ANNE KILLIGREW LALLA ROOKH: PARADISE AND THE PERI by THOMAS MOORE IN BATTLE by ABUL HASAN OF BADAJOZ TO ONE WHO ASKS by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS |