'Bread!' the starver faintly sigheth; 'I have none!' the robb'd replieth; Doall loseth, Starveall winneth; Cheatall laugheth, while he sinneth; Work grim-gaspeth o'er spare diet; And the Million-Tongued is quiet. When the forest breatheth deeply, Darked sun down shining steeply; When the noon-night scarcely shifteth; And the windy cloud uplifteth Not a leaf the mute heav'ns under; Then, the thoughtful look for thunder! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REVAMPING THE VIRGIN by KAREN SWENSON TRUE UNTIL DEATH by ROBERT BURNS CHRISTMAS TREES; A CHRISTMAS CIRCULAR LETTER by ROBERT FROST BROTHERS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 1: 10. THE TOYS by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE |