Compensation

 Why should I keep holiday,
When other men have none?
Why but because when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone.

And why when mirth unseals all tongues
Should mine alone be dumb?
Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs,
And now their hour is come.

Form: Ballad Comments

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace