LET those who will stride on their barren roads And prick themselves to haste with self-made goads, Unheeding, as they struggle day by day, If flowers be sweet or skies be blue or gray: For me, the lone, cool way by purling brooks, The solemn quiet of the woodland nooks, A song-bird somewhere trilling sadly gay, A pause to pick a flower beside the way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEA by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL by PUBLIUS AELIUS HADRIANUS SATIRE: 6 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS A GARGOYLE by ARTHUR STANLEY BOURINOT ASOLANDO: 'IMPERANTE AUGUSTO NATUS EST' by ROBERT BROWNING SOMEWHERE by JOHN VANCE CHENEY DIVINA COMMEDIA: PURGATORIO: CANTO 28: MATILDA GATHERING FLOWERS by DANTE ALIGHIERI |