THE old earth lies asleep in the sun, Or moans and mumbles, telling his beads, -- Many's the sin that old earth's done, Drowsing there in his beggar-weeds. Many's the sin, but heart o' man! Lilt of wind, and rush of sky! A-piping down the road comes Pan, And what is heaven when he is by? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NON SUM QUALIS ERAM BONAE SUB REGNO CYNARAE by ERNEST CHRISTOPHER DOWSON THE CAPTAIN; A LEGEND OF THE NAVY by ALFRED TENNYSON THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE TO A FOIL'D EUROPEAN REVOLUTIONAIRE by WALT WHITMAN MISPLACED SYMPATHY by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS HOPE DEFERRED by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON AN INFANTRYMAN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |