The Ladder

"The chimes that rhyme in our time
Foretell of an ancient crime
For whoever heard it never lived to see
A minute little pod or pea

The rich care not for love nor might
Only does death give them a fright
But all the tired little mice who live on rice
Never surprise by things that aren't nice

The chimes that rhyme after our time
Do concede many a crime
For those unfortunate souls that heed
Have no more worries of cast or creed

The poor want not for love or fear
To them the end is all too near
But knowing this does them no good
For love does not substitute for food

A chime that rhymes quietly out of time
Bears not much on recent crimes
As neither storm nor shelter is a constant creed
In winter you get cold, in summer heat

The middle is almost always cushioned thus
No need to make any fuss

But this place in life must be held dear
For one can slip either-way I hear"


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