 | The Collected Songs of Charles Mackay |  |
332
MISERRIMUS.
I
There's nothing I prize beneath the sky,Or great, or small.
And were I happy, I could die,
And go to the bourne where goeth all.
II
I once prized wealth, but it brought me grief—Ah me, forlorn!
And I fancied every man a thief,
And cursed the hour that I was born.
III
I once prized a woman, and loved her well—Ah, weary day!
But great was the misery that befell,
And crown'd my hair with silvery gray.
IV
I once prized the love of a little child—Unhappy me!
It grew to a man, and drove me wild
With ingratitude and treachery.
V
I once prized a friend, and thought him true;But hard my fate!
There was no wrong he would not do,
And he made my fireside desolate.
333
VI
I once prized Fame, and follow'd its light—O dupe! to care
For such a false and wayward sprite,
Born of the foulness of the air!
VII
There's nothing I prize or value more;Nothing at all!
Nothing behind me, nothing before!
Nothing at all! Oh, nothing at all!
| The Collected Songs of Charles Mackay | |