To have a business of my own
With toil and tears,
I wore my fingers to the bone
For weary years.
With stoic heart, for sordid gold
In patient pain
My life and liberty I sold
For others gain.
I scrimped and scraped, as cent by cent
My savings grew;
I found a faded shop for rent,
Made it like new.
Above the door the paint was dry
Where glowed my name:
I waited there for folks to buy--
But no one came.
Now I am back where I began:
Myself I sell.
I grovel to a greedy man,
And life is hell.
An empty shop of bankrupt shame
I pass before,
Seeing my bitter, bleary name
Above the door.
Vain Venture
Robert William Service
(1)
Poem topics: heart, pain, business, gold, bitter, shame, bone, gain, life, door, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Vain Venture poem by Robert William Service
Best Poems of Robert William Service