Things that are dear to me at home Need all my help, and more; And many a kindly thought I kill, For the stranger at my door; Yet every generous impulse slain, Is a ghost that haunts me still. It's better that a woman had A love-child at her breast, Than live a heartless, selfish maid; It's better that a man should trust A worthless knave, than never have His love or innocence betrayed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: COLUMBUS CHENEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO THE POOR by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE COMING OF SPRING by NORA PERRY TO CHARLOTTE PULTENEY [IN HER MOTHER'S ARMS] by AMBROSE PHILIPS MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 14 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE PRAIRIE-GRASS DIVIDING by WALT WHITMAN |