Chalk scarcely shames my whiten’d cheek,
Grief has plough’d furrows in my brow.
I only get one meal a day,
And that one meal—oh, God!—my tea;
I’m wasting silently away,
But I have NOT forgotten thee!
My days are drawing to their end—
I’ve now, alas! no end in view;
I never had a real friend—
I wear a worn-out black surtout,