Treasure

Here is a tale for infants and old nurses: There was a man who gathered rags; and peddled: Who lived alone: with no one ever meddled: And this old man was very fond of verses. His house, a ruin, so the tale rehearses; A hovel over-run of rats and vermin; Not fit for beast to live in. (Like a sermon Embodying misery and hell and curses.) There, one grey dawn of rain and windy weather, They found him dead; starved; o'er a written paper; Beside a dim and half-expiring taper: It was a play, the poor fool'd put together, Of gnomes and fairies, for his own sad pleasure: And folks destroyed it, saying, 'We seek for treasure.'