I hate this grinding poverty— <br />To toil, and pinch, and borrow, <br />And be for ever haunted by <br />The spectre of to-morrow. <br />It breaks the strong heart of a man, <br />It crushes out his spirit— <br />Do what he will, do what he can, <br />However high his merit! <br /> <br />I hate the praise that Want has got <br />From preacher and from poet, <br />The cant of those who know it not <br />To blind the men who know it. <br />The greatest curse since man had birth, <br />An everlasting terror: <br />The cause of half the crime on earth, <br />The cause of half the error.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poverty-43/
