A trifle poor in the past today I'm utterly broke whatever I do doesn't work every road is a treadmill my legs quake in the mud my stomach aches on festival days since I lost that calico cat my pot is surrounded by rats | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE CROWDED HOUR, FR. OLD MORTALITY by WALTER SCOTT AMY WENTWORTH; FOR WILLIAM BRADFORD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER CIRCUS AT NIGHT by MADELEINE AARON IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE: A STORM by JOHN ARMSTRONG TO A CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: ISBRAND by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES MOON RIDER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |