TO you, while yet he lived, your father lent Two thousand pounds a month -- in folly spent; Though large the stipend, each succeeding day Brought fresh demands to melt the sum away. Now, all his wealth is yours without his care; You're disinherited by being heir! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAD LOVE by MARY MATHEWS ADAMS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 14. THE COMPLAINT by MARK AKENSIDE THE FROGS: THE FROGS' SONG by ARISTOPHANES EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 38. NO PERJURY IN LOVE by PHILIP AYRES THE INCURABLE; A SONG by PHILIP AYRES OUR OLD CENTER-TOWN VERMONT MEETINGHOUSE by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |