Rising Above Penury
Thy bread thee eat in mine presence,
Yet offer none that I may feed,
O pauper, as I, thine heart benefits none,
Thou hast been bitter towards me.
Dost not thence hold penance within,
That I giveth to thee poor rehearse,
And care naught of thy thunderous dread,
For I totter forth thro' mine sway.
Hear me! O gracious one; hear me,
I am dying, of hunger true,
From earth I wouldst be gone if thy worth is lost,
Unto heavens glory I beg...
I implore thee throw voice to front,
To mien of burning sunken eyes,
With poorest heart and intense despair,
O'er which treacherous strains are felt.
Thy light I sought in hearts deplore,
Whence thee dwelt on evil affairs,
But what yields there in this hideous madness?
Hear me! O gracious one; hear me.
Whereof the dreaming wilt be gone,
Thy mind thus shalt be indigent,
And abandoned of its guardian spirit,
Mere pauper as I then must rise.
Ceasing mine despair where I can,
A promise none should deny me,
For highest pride the road forth is paved,
Whither thy star voice shalt be heard.
Copyright © Charles Bernabi | Year Posted 2015
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