Poor and Weary!
IN a low and cheerless cot
Sat one mourning his sad lot;
All day long he’d sought for labor;
All day long his nearest neighbor
Lived in affluence and squandered
Wealth, while he an outcast wandered,
And the night with shadowy wing
Heard him this low moaning sing:
“Sad and weary, poor and weary,
Life to me is ever dreary!”
Morning came; there was no sound
Heard within. Men gathered round,
Peering through the window-pane;
They saw a form as if ’t were lain
Out for burial. Stiff and gaunt
Lay the man who died in want.
And methought I heard that day
Angel voices whispering say,
“No more sad, poor and weary,
Life to me no more is dreary!”