TIME was when his half million drew The breath of six per cent; But soon the worm of what-was-not Fed hard on his content; And something crumbled in his brain When his half million went. Time passed, and filled along with his The place of many more; Time came, and hardly one of us Had credence to restore, From what appeared one day, the man Whom we had known before. The broken voice, the withered neck, The coat worn out with care, The cleanliness of indigence, The brilliance of despair, The fond imponderable dreams Of affluence,--all were there. Poor Finzer, with his dreams and schemes, Fares hard now in the race, With heart and eye that have a task When he looks in the face Of one who might so easily Have been in Finzer's place. He comes unfailing for the loan We give and then forget; He comes, and probably for years Will he be coming yet,-- Familiar as an old mistake, And futile as regret. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 2 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN STORY OF THE GATE by HARRISON ROBERTSON THE YEAR OF JUBILEE by HENRY CLAY WORK A SONG FOR MY FELLOWS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON CHRIST THE CONSOLER by HENRY WILLIAMS BAKER THE HOLLYHOCKS by CRAVEN LANGSTROTH BETTS PSALM 51 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: LEBID by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 43. FAREWELL TO JULIET (5) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |