Earth's sweet and patient processes have wrought In him not otherwise than in a seed, Storing the fruity essences for thought To take and shape to wisdom at his need. And so, as if returned somehow to men From out the reach of lost Arcadian days, He brings the sense of Infinite again, And epic grace to casual speech and ways. Rooted too deep in cosmos to be stirred By tumults of the hour, he keeps his way, -- Evoking with a single clovered word Virgilian peasants ricking up their hay, Or bees about Hymettus, as he mows A load of winter forage for the cows. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GRIN by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE BARBARA FRIETCHIE [SEPTEMBER 13, 1862] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ON BEING ASKED FOR A WAR POEM by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |