I AM all bent to glean the golden ore Little by little from the river-bed; Hoping the day to see When Crœsus shall be conquered in my store. Therefore, still sifting where the sands are spread, I labor patiently: Till, thus intent on this thing and no more,— If to a vein of silver I were led, It scarce could gladden me. And, seeing that no joy's so warm i' the core As this whereby the heart is comforted And the desire set free,— Therefore, thy bitter love is still my scope, Lady, from whom it is my life's sore theme More painfully to sift the grains of hope Than gold out of that stream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN WALKED BUD WITH A PALETTE by CLARENCE MAJOR WHERE THE PICNIC WAS by THOMAS HARDY THE BROOK: AUTUMN by LAURA ABELL TIPPERARY: 3. AS THE INTERLINEARS MIGHT TAKE IT FROM XENOPHON by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A WINTER PIECE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |