@3VERSE sweetens toil, however rude the sound; She feels no biting pang the while she sings; Nor, as she turns the giddy wheel around, Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.@1 No pang to me my minnesinging brings; I pen my poems by the very pound. (They say, whene'er one strikes the lyric strings, @3Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound.@1) My reckless muse, ungirdled and uncrowned, Sings on, sings on of cabbages and kings; Skyward she soars, or digs below the ground— @3She feels no biting pang the while she sings.@1 Coherence to the well-known winds she flings; She cares not if the clock of Time be wound, Nor recks she, as she plays, if wealth have wings, @3Nor as she turns the giddy wheel around.@1 She muses on the souls confined and bound; On barren winters and on sapful springs; And as she stands upon her airy mound, @3Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.@1 I like a poem when it sort of swings, And floats and sinks—at times you think it's drowned— And lives, and dies, and falls away, and clings. But, in a long career, I've never found @3Verse sweetens toil.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHARITAS NIMIA; OR THE DEAR BARGAIN by RICHARD CRASHAW SUMMER SHOWER by EMILY DICKINSON THAT HOLY THING by GEORGE MACDONALD ODE ON THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER by JORGE MANRIQUE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 5. ALLAH-AL-KUDDUS by EDWIN ARNOLD SONG OF SOLOMON: 5:1 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |