Treasure Island

Arthur Bayldon

(20 March 1865 - 26 September 1958 / Leeds, England)

Why I am Poor


Because, my friends I have a savage glee
In drinking to the dregs the draughts of life
And love to feel my spirit spreading free,
Stretching itself through every calm and strife
Or stealing through the secret souls of others;
Because, thank God! I'm made of simple stuff
And prize the friendship of my ragged brothers;
Because I love my liberty enough
To starve for it at times; because, forsooth,
I do not flout my manhood for a fee
Or care a straw for anything but Truth
And the warm pulse of human sympathy;
Because, in brief, I want no worldly wealth
But riches of the soul and buoyant health.

Submitted: Saturday, May 12, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Why I am Poor by Arthur Bayldon )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Bumpy Rocky Roads, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  2. Missing Piece Of Me, Kristopher DeLander
  3. The Angelus, Naveed Khalid
  4. If …poesy could be defined…, Laxman Rao
  5. Mundane, Naveed Khalid
  6. Economy, Naveed Khalid
  7. May You Live Like _ _ _, Shabbir Hussein Gulani
  8. Greenbrier, Naveed Khalid
  9. collaborator, oskar hansen
  10. Chasing Shadow, Naveed Khalid

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]