I
TE this grinding poverty— To toil, and pinch, and borrow,
And be for ever haunted by The spectre of to-morrow
It breaks the strong heart of a man, It crushes out his spirit—Do what he will, do what he can, However high his merit...
HE post-boy drove with fierce career,
For threatening clouds the moon had drowned;
When, as we hurried on, my
Was smitten with a startling sound
As in the house I sate,
Alone and desolate, No creature but the fire and I,
The chimney and the stool,
I lift mine eye Up to the wall, And in the silent hall, Saw nothing mine But some few cups and dishes shine, The table and the wo...