To have a business of my own <br /> With toil and tears, <br />I wore my fingers to the bone <br /> For weary years. <br />With stoic heart, for sordid gold <br /> In patient pain <br />My life and liberty I sold <br /> For others gain. <br /> <br />I scrimped and scraped, as cent by cent <br /> My savings grew; <br />I found a faded shop for rent, <br /> Made it like new. <br />Above the door the paint was dry <br /> Where glowed my name: <br />I waited there for folks to buy-- <br /> But no one came. <br /> <br />Now I am back where I began: <br /> Myself I sell. <br />I grovel to a greedy man, <br /> And life is hell. <br />An empty shop of bankrupt shame <br /> I pass before, <br />Seeing my bitter, bleary name <br /> Above the door.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/vain-venture/
