The Poor House

by Sara Teasedale
Hope went by and Peace went by
   And would not enter in;
Youth went by and Health went by
   And Love that is their kin.
Those within the house shed tears
   On their bitter bread;
Some were old and some were mad,
   And some were sick a-bed.
Gray Death saw the wretched house
   And even he passed by—
"They have never lived," he said,
   "They can wait to die."