 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
TENURE OF LIFE.
Poor Soul! poor tenant mere “at will;” thy leaseNot upon “lives” “renewable,” but “Go!”
Sole notice of ejectment, without “No.”
Look closely to thy clauses, lest it cease
And straight determine, while thou at thine ease,
Poor Soul! dost dwell, and all things make fair show.
Take heed no breach of covenant doth grow
To grave offence and “forfeit,” 'gainst all pleas.
Thy tenure brief at best is; no fixed date:
While many flaws creep in by negligence;
Many inherent in mere life-estate.
The great Lessór interprets in strict sense;
Nought doth on plea of ignorance abate,
But holds thee to thy bond, as Himself pens!
| Stones from The Quarry | |