Classic Poem

If in my suffering any good you find,
I'll call at dawn or midnight, nor complain,
Nipped by the bitter blast of freezing wind,
Endure the snow and brave the chilling rain;
But not a single farthing you can gain,
And I must bear a tortured slave's distress—
Oh spare a weary wight the wanton pain
That racks him and to you is profitless!