A few long-hoarded pennies in his hand Behold him stand; A kilted Hedonist, perplexed and sad. The joy that once he had, The first delight of ownership is fled. He bows his little head. Ah, cruel Time, to kill That splendid thrill! Then in his tear-dimmed eyes New lights arise. He drops his treasured pennies on the ground, They roll and bound And scattered go, But that they may, new found, be newly sweet. Yea, at His feet Sit, waiting us, to their concealment bid, All they, our lovers, whom His Love hath hid. Lo, comfort blooms on pain, and peace on strife, And gain on loss. What is the key to Everlasting Life? A blood-stained Cross. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SAVONAROLA BROWN, SELECTION by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM RELEASE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE FIAMMETT: SONNET. OF FIAMMETTA SINGING by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO NIMROD: 7 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH HASTINGS' SONNETS: 5 by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES |