I had been hungry all the years;
My noon had come, to dine;
I, trembling, drew the table near,
And touched the curious wine.
~ ~ ~
'T was this on tables I had seen,
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked on windows, for the wealth,
I could not hope to own
~ ~ ~
I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In nature's dinning-room.
~ ~ ~
The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,-
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.
~ ~ ~
Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
Poetry~Poems~They're not just words on paper, they express feelings right to you~Beautiful Word Portraits~Mine, and others~ For my best poems, read the my newest ones. (The ones toward the bottom of the list)
