My name is Worry and I force myself Like some persistent caller on the day Which might be merry as a gladsome elf From dawn till evening could it have its way And I remain aloof. If soothing night Could tuck to rest upon its trundle-bed The weary world and I not claim my right To fret it till its drowsiness had fled, No one would call me Worry and my name Might quite as well be Tweedledee or -dum And every day, as surely as it came, Would dance without a thought of years to come But, still, would wander an inferior race Half beast, half man, left living by God's grace. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF GRANT by AMBROSE BIERCE THE AGED STRANGER; AN INCIDENT OF THE WAR by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE WILD DUCK'S NEST by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DAWN ON THE HILLS (FROM A HOTEL WINDOW) by LILLIAN ATCHERSON TRUTH AND SORROW by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY THE FORMER LIFE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |