Wages Poem by Norman Rowland Gale
Wages
Rating: ★2.7
My lass, when God
to suffer sent me,
no gifts he gave,
but only lent me
for gold, my breath,
for silver, labour;
the sky as a friend,
the grass as neighbour.
The Vineyard called
for workers many;
at eve I took
God's punctual penny;
Because I bowed
content, I fancy,
He gave me you
for wages, Nancy!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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4/25/2024 8:33:52 PM # 1.0.0.1119
