IAM old Euphron, with no broad array Of arable, nor vineyards rich in wine; My ploughshare scrapes a bit of shallow clay, The juices of a grape or two are mine: Mite can but yield its mite. God, give me more, And take the first-fruits of my ampler store. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YANKEE'S RETURN FROM CAMP [JUNE, 1775] by EDWARD BANGS A TOCCATA OF GALUPPI'S by ROBERT BROWNING ELEGY: 16. ON HIS MISTRESS by JOHN DONNE MADRIGAL: 1 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN AT APRIL by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE PORTRAIT OF A LADY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE PLANTING by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY TO HIS LATE MAJESTY, CONCERNING..TRUE FORM OF ENGLISH POETRY by JOHN BEAUMONT |