Michael Villiers, Idealist And Other Poems. By E. H. Hickey |
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Michael Villiers, Idealist | ||
II
‘'Twas but a little week ago, one came,
Came praying me to sell letters of his!
I know not what I answered him, ywis;
I knew I would die first; and one wild flame,
Mine outraged womanhood leapt up to shame
The asker, and he left me; me who miss
Living a little longer. What is this?
I think that God will hold me not to blame.
Came praying me to sell letters of his!
I know not what I answered him, ywis;
I knew I would die first; and one wild flame,
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The asker, and he left me; me who miss
Living a little longer. What is this?
I think that God will hold me not to blame.
I knew the end was drawing very nigh;—
By famine done to death at forty-five!
One would suppose I might have kept alive
In Kensington a little longer; why,
I think I am over young like this to die.
I strove good strife; but what avails to strive?
By famine done to death at forty-five!
One would suppose I might have kept alive
In Kensington a little longer; why,
I think I am over young like this to die.
I strove good strife; but what avails to strive?
Michael Villiers, Idealist | ||