human
Ah! woe for the word that is never said Till the ear is deaf to hear; And woe for the lack to the fainting head Of the ringing shout of cheer; Ah! woe for the laggard feet that tread In the mournful wake of the bier. A pitiful thing the gift to-day That is dross and nothing worth, Though if it had come but yesterday, It had brimmed with sweet the earth; A fading rose in a death-cold hand, That perished in want and dearth.