A Valediction: of the Poor

I seldom bred a token for despair Out of innocence, meekness, pain or worse I'd rather wear the sand- hill, plucking air Engaging folds of plants in cold discourse. I seldom pleased the lure of brilliant pleas Nor gave mine ears to beggar calls and cries I'd rather cleave to laughter, ringing breeze Impress'd in kennel choirs of rats and flies. I seldom flew the tales of tomorrow As said in gatherings of public clowns Exchange all cheerfulness, in mine, sorrow I owe nothing to men, nor homes, nor towns. I seldom felt the hands of wealth and fame I know I lived a life and lived w'thout shame.