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130
THWARTED
“What is this man to you?
A dwarf beneath a giant's thumb,
He wriggles for his heart. You come,
As sourly as you came before,
And rob me at my very door.
What is this man to you?”
Said Death.
A dwarf beneath a giant's thumb,
He wriggles for his heart. You come,
As sourly as you came before,
And rob me at my very door.
What is this man to you?”
Said Death.
“You shall not have him yet.
He neither frowned nor bid me pay
For bruised and broken yesterday,
But gardened in his pleasant soul
And offered me a buttonhole.
You shall not have him yet!”
Said Life.
He neither frowned nor bid me pay
For bruised and broken yesterday,
But gardened in his pleasant soul
And offered me a buttonhole.
You shall not have him yet!”
Said Life.
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