THE cost of it! The waste of it!—this wrings My heart. To barter love for things, things, things! You stand begirt with all your household store, Yet shiver, naked to the very core. Why, ev'n from workhouse wards may come a strain, A song and laugh—you will not sing again. How oft, with shame and pity, have you read Of wretched girls who sell themselves for bread, But who shall win you back to decency Who sold yourself for superfluity? You give your money to the madhouse too, But is the wildest there as mad as you? Upon a dead swan's down the head is pressed That might have known a living lover's breast; And from the gold of life you turned away To build yourself a tomb of yellow clay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE ELF-MAN by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS LINES ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM [ON THE FIRST OF FEBRUARY 1796] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SESTINA: 1. OF THE LADY PIETRA DEGLI SCROVIGNI by DANTE ALIGHIERI TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH MARECHAL NIEL by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH NEW YEAR'S EVE by GEORGE ARNOLD |