@3Each in the self-same field we glean The field of the Samosatene, Each something takes and something leaves And this must choose, and that forego In Lucian's visionary sheaves, To twine a modern posy so; But all my gleanings, truth to tell, Are mixed with mournful asphodel, While yours are wreathed with poppies red, With flowers that Helen's feet have kissed, With leaves of vine that garlanded The Syrian Pantagruelist, The sage who laughed the world away, Who mocked at Gods, and men, and care, More sweet of voice than Rabelais, And lighter-hearted than Voltaire.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCK O' KINGWATTER by ROBERT ANDERSON OF CARLISLE CAGNES; ON THE RIVIERA by MATHILDE BLIND LYNCHED NEGRO by MAXWELL BODENHEIM DEATH by STOPFORD AUGUSTUS BROOKE UNDER THE BLUE by FRANCIS FISHER BROWNE |