Children of the Night : A Book of Poems An Old Story
by Edwin A Robinson
Strange that I did not know him then,
That friend of mine!
I did not even show him then
One friendly sign;
But cursed him for the ways he had
To make me see
My envy of the praise he had
For praising me.
I would have rid the earth of him
Once, in my pride! ...
I never knew the worth of him
Until he died.
