IN my loamy nook As I dig my hole I observe men look At a stone, and sigh As they pass it by To some far goal. Something it says To their glancing eyes That must distress The frail and lame, And the strong of frame Gladden or surprise. Do signs on its face Declare how far Feet have to trace Before they gain Some blest champaign Where no gins are? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER MATER IN EXTREMIS by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER ASOLANDO: EPILOGUE by ROBERT BROWNING THE EUMENIDES: THE FURIES' PRAYER by AESCHYLUS MOON OF LOVELINESS by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II |