Poems (Geisse)/The Poor Relation

by Mary A. Geisse

THE POOR RELATION.

I am a poor relation,
 A dreadful plight to be in;
I'm looked upon as a bête-noir
 By all my prosperous kin.

Whene'er we chance to meet,
 No welcoming smiles I see;
Well do I know the frigid looks
 That are in store for me.

A few there are who pay me
 An occasional duty call,
But most of them wish to forget
 That I exist at all.

And on the street they give me
 A freezing little nod,
While their spinal cord seems suddenly
 Constructed like a rod.

Or oftener it happens
 They pretend preoccupation,
Though their self-conscious looks betray
 They've seen their poor relation.

Besides these snubs and slights,
 I've numerous other woes,
Among which not the least
 Is wearing shabby clothes.

My coat is very seedy,
 My frocks they are antique,
And when there comes a rainy day
 My shoes are sure to leak.

I've but one bonnet to my name,
 And that is three years old;
My umbrella is a sieve,
 And gives me many a cold.

In fact of worldly treasures
 I've a very modest store,
But I hope t'will be increasing
 As I daily ask for more.

For added to my troubles
 Is the constant wish to spend,
Not for selfish pleasures only,
 But the needy to befriend.

And when I hear some tale of woe
 I find it doubly trying,
And I wish my heart, like some I know,
 Was slowly ossifying.