So many things we lack,
which should I name first?
Before I speak of one
another stirs and bursts.
We lack for rice, we lack for fish,
and so much more besides,
we lack all joy and peace of mind,
some lack what money buys.
No car, no house, no daily bread—
want is our constant friend,
and crying "want" and "want" and "want"
has dimmed the heart's bright lens.
We lack all wisdom, lack all wealth,
our wanting has no end,
we lack all virtue, lack all worth—
sorrow's strings we tend.
We lack all goodness, lack all light,
the hungry lack their grain,
even applause is wanting here
where crowds of people strain.
My lack, your lack—tell me, friend,
who is free from want's cruel art?
The greatest lack of all, dear brother:
lacking the will to start.