The Philosophical Beggar
William Henry Davies
Out, life of care !
Man lives to fret
For some vain thing
He cannot get.
The cities crave
Grean solitude,
The country craves
A multitude.
Man lives to want;
The rich man’s lot
Is to want things
The poor know not.
And no man died
But must look back
With sorrow on
His own past track.
If beggar has
No child or wife,
He, of al man,
Enjoys most life.
When rich men loathe
Their meat and wine,
He thinks dry bread
And water fine.
When fames’s as sick
As failure is,
He snores on straw
In quiet bliss.
责任编辑：虫虫
