| Some beings live from day to day
Without a thought; Whose solemn moments pass away And soon forgot. Each day as but an idle dream Of little worth; And to the dormant mind 'twould seem His life a curse. It is a fruitless life indeed; Ah, yes, 'tis worse Than fruitless, and of little need E'er to rehearse. Not only do they bear no fruit Of value great, Nor deeds of any good repute Would fain create, But worse by far than fruitless toil, They sink at last Into despair, a worthless spoil, Forgotten past. Ah, sad to see a wasted form All ghastly lay, A victim to life's every storm, A helpless prey. All damned here by his worthless self, Ignoble slave; A victim of his hand bereft, His trust did wave. __James A. DeMoss |
Kansas Zephyrs
James A. DeMoss
(Thayer, Kansas: ___. 1892)
Pages 35-36
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