Drunk And Disorderly - Poem by Ada Cambridge
Poor, staggering brute, whom one and all disdain!
Maybe 'twas outraged Nature bade him slake
His thirst like this — to still the gnawing ache
Of weary bones that else would ache in vain.
Maybe crushed spirit and stagnating brain
Only in this delirious fever wake
To transient joys of fancy that can take
The sting from want, the bitterness from pain.
Punish the drunkard! Confiscate the bowl!
But give fair wage for work, give health and hope
To check the waste that calls for such repair;
Give food to toil- worn body and starved soul,
And give the pinched imagination scope
For sensuous pleasure in a purer air.
Comments about Drunk And Disorderly by Ada Cambridge
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You