 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
209
The Thieves
The night was dark and I alone,
When midnight's stillest hours begin;
There smote my door a heavy stone,
And one for plunder broke within.
When midnight's stillest hours begin;
There smote my door a heavy stone,
And one for plunder broke within.
He took whate'er I valued high,
My books, and often-counted gold;
Nor heeded he my strength or cry,
For I was young, and he was old.
My books, and often-counted gold;
Nor heeded he my strength or cry,
For I was young, and he was old.
My neighbors in the morning came,
Who long had taught me they were mine,
And too a better life laid claim;
And bade me not for them repine.
Who long had taught me they were mine,
And too a better life laid claim;
And bade me not for them repine.
For they would all restore to me,
The thief last night had stole away;
And brought these books, this gold you see,
Far more than he had made his prey.
The thief last night had stole away;
And brought these books, this gold you see,
Far more than he had made his prey.
Yet I would not their offerings take,
For they who learned me so to live,
That I such gifts mine own would make,
But rob me more the more they give.
For they who learned me so to live,
That I such gifts mine own would make,
But rob me more the more they give.
Poem No. 533; late 1839—early 1840
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |