Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
MoneyWilliam H. Davies (18711940)
W
I knew no joy till I went poor;
For many a false man as a friend
Came knocking all day at my door.
A trumpet that he must not blow
Because a man is dead; I dared
Not speak to let this false world know.
How poor men’s hearts are ever light;
And how their wives do hum like bees
About their work from morn till night.
And see the rich ones, coldly frown—
Poor men, think I, need not go up
So much as rich men should come down.
My many friends proved all untrue;
But now I have no money, O!
My friends are real, though very few.