Theodore Roethke - The Reckoning lyrics

All profits disappear: the gain Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum; And now grim digits of old pain Return to litter up our home. We hunt the cause of ruin, add, Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn; For all our scratching on the pad, We cannot trace the error down. What we are seeking is a fare One way, a chance to be secure: The lack that keeps us what we are, The penny that usurps the poor.