He's gone. And here I sit In learning weak, poor in sense, Berry-black, sad, out of it, Without an income, cash, or rents. My lowest relative. I'm sure. Steps up to utter he will quit me, Forgetting even though I'm poor Nature decrees thar he admit me. .. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MAIDENHOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PALINODE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TWELVE SONNETS: 4. LONELY SEASONS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) BILL SWEENY OF THE BLACK GANG by JAMES BARNES ON HEARING AN AEOLIAN HARP by PETER BAYLEY JR. THE RED SUNSETS, 1883 (2) by MATHILDE BLIND LADY OF MYSTERY by G. W. BLOEMENDAL HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 1 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |