XXVIII.

Now dreary dawns the eastern light,
   And fall of eve is drear,
And cold the poor man lies at night,
   And so goes out the year.

Little is the luck I’ve had,
   And oh, ‘tis comfort small
To think that many another lad
   Has had no luck at all.

A.E. Housman, Last Poems
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Public domain: first published in 1922.