Peculations.
151
The solace that from grief you wring,
All sorrowless is mine,
And when you build a faultless thing,
I borrow the design.
All sorrowless is mine,
And when you build a faultless thing,
I borrow the design.
The tracks you blaze, the spurs you win—
Of all I take my tithe;
Ay, even when Death garners in
I levy on the scythe.
Of all I take my tithe;
Ay, even when Death garners in
I levy on the scythe.
Though you may never notice me,
Nor any loss recall,
I will confess that shamelessly
I wrong, and rob you all.
Nor any loss recall,
I will confess that shamelessly
I wrong, and rob you all.
