1 min read
Слушать(AI)Riches
Friend, you have wealth and power,
Men go and come at your call,
Yours are the whims of the hour—What have you done with it all?
I am only a
Fighting a bitter fight,
Fate will not even grant
Leisure in which to write.
You said as your thin lips curled:“Money is better than bays.”Battered and bruised by the world!
I still have my golden days.
You have lost the power to enjoy,
You tire of each plaything new,
Mine is the heart of a boy;
Friend,
I am richer than you!
George Essex Evans
George Essex Evans (18 June 1863 – 10 November 1909) was an Australian poet.
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
On The Plains
Half-lost in film of faintest lawn, A single star in armour Upon the dreamy heights of Guards dim frontier of the night,
A Nocturne
Like weary sea-birds spent with flight And faltering, The slow hours beat across the night On leaden wing The wild bird knows where rest shall be Soe'er he roam Heart of my heart
To The Irish Dead
IS a green isle set in a silver water, A fairy isle where the shamrock grows Land of Legend, the Dream-Queen’s daughter— Out of the Fairies’ hands She rose They touched Her harp with a tender sighing, A spirit-song from a world afar,<br ...
Toowoomba
Dark purple, chased with sudden gloom and glory, Like waves in wild unrest, Low-wooded billows and steep summits hoary, Ridge, slope, and mountain crest, Cease at her feet with faces turned to meet her, Enthroned, apart, Above her v...