One counts the future that is his With steady fingers, Piling the years in row Like smooth round dollars, ready for his use. One flings it from him, out among the crowd, Gay showers of confetti, caring but To make men glad. And one holds close within his eager hand Tending it as a rare and delicate flower Lest rain or wind should mar its loveliness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UP AT A VILLA - DOWN IN THE CITY by ROBERT BROWNING THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE CROWING OF THE RED COCK by EMMA LAZARUS THE DAISY; WRITTEN AT EDINBURGH by ALFRED TENNYSON MOON-BRIGHT DREAMS by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS SOUNDS OF THE CITY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE OPEN DOOR by NETTIE STEPHENSON BOWEN |