AI Poem of the day #53

A grief that sometimes moved me to madness, though always with a hand at his shoulder and some support from a doctor's hand. Every day that past I stood at that doorway, poised on the brink of doing what he bade me and a part of me did want to do. But the poor held back by property or ignorance, they got no reply from him in reply. Then I thought, "He is not answering me. He is not a man to be taken in by ease. I will not wait for him to come to me. If he is mad and will not answer me, I will not linger, or pause for ease, but will go on to him."