Long have I beat with timid hands upon life's leaden door, Praying the patient, futile prayer my fathers prayed before, Yet I remain without the close, unheeded and unheard, And never to my listening ear is borne the waited word. Soft o'er the threshold of the years there comes this counsel cool: The strong demand, contend, prevail; the beggar is a fool! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND by ANDREW MARVELL THE LUNCH by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ON A TOBACCO JAR by BERNARD BARKER SONNET: ONE NEW YEAR'S EVE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON PSALM 43. JUDICA ME DEUS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |