Write the summary of the following poem of Robert Hayden.

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he'd call,

and slowly I'd rise and dress.

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently, to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know of

love's austere and lonely offices?

O father and mother, if buds are nipped,

And blossoms blown away;

And if the tender plants are stripped

Of their joy in the springing day,

By sorrow and care's dismay,-

How shall the summer arise in joy,

Or the summer fruits appear?

Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,

Or bless the mellowing year,

When the blasts of winter appear?

I sit in one of the dives

On fifty-second street

Uncertain and afraid

As the clever hopes expire.

Of a low dishonest decade:

Waves of anger and fear

Circulate over the bright

And darkened lands of the earth.

Obsessing our private lives;

The unmentionable odour of death

Offends the September night.

I died for beauty, but was scarce

Adjusted in the tomb,

When One who died for truth was lain

In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?

"For beauty", I replied.

"And I for truth-the two are one;

We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a-night,

We talked between the rooms,

Until the moss had reached our lips,

And covered up our names.