Poetry Archives

Say, lad, have you things to do?
Quick then, while your day’s at prime.
Quick, and if ’tis work for two,
Here am I man: now’s your time.

Send me now, and I shall go;
Call me, I shall hear you call;
Use me ere they lay me low
Where a man’s no use at all;

Ere the wholesome flesh decay
And the willing nerve be numb,
And the lips lack breath to say,
“No, my lad, I cannot come.”