Explore "Sonnets" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The beggar thoughts pass down the lanes of day, / And on the thorns that are the hours I find / Their tatters and their rags. Infirm and blind, / They faded in the void, and all the way / Mouthed senseless jeers at me. I dared not pray / For wisdom from these fools who throng the mind / And leave no gifts but bitterness behind.
Chin upon hand, I watched, nor bade them stay.