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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538277" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Waiting</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538277" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A square, squat room (a cellar on promotion),<br>Drab to the soul, drab to the very daylight;<br>Plasters astray in unnatural-looking tinware;<br>Scissors and lint and apothecary's jars.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538277" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Here, on a bench a skeleton would writhe from,<br>Angry and sore, I wait to be admitted:<br>Wait till my heart is lead upon my stomach,<br>While at their ease two dressers do their chores.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538277" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">One has a probe-it feels to me a crowbar.<br>A small boy sniffs and shudders after bluestone.<br>A poor old tramp explains his poor old ulcers.<br>Life is (I think) a blunder and a shame.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Ernest+Henley">William Ernest Henley</a></strong></div>

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