The grey wolf

The grey wolf comes again: I had made fast

The door with chains; how has the grey wolf passed

My threshold? I have nothing left to give:

Go from me now, grey wolf, and let me live!

I have fed you once, given all you would, given all

I had to give, I have been prodigal;

I am poor now, the table is but spread

With water and a little wheaten bread;

You have taken all I ever had from me:

Go from me now, grey wolf, and let me be!

The grey wolf, crouching by the bolted door,

Waits, watching for his food upon the floor;

I see the old hunger and the old thirst for blood

Rise up, under his eye-balls, like a flood:

What shall I do that the grey wolf may go?

This time, I have no store of meat to throw;

He waits; but I have nothing left, and I stand

Helpless, and his eyes fasten on my hand.

O grey wolf, grey wolf, will you not depart,

Unless I feed you with my heart?