It seems to me a grandest thing To save the soul from perishing By planting it where heaven's rain May reach and make it grow again. It seems to me the man who leaves The soul to perish is as one Who gathers up the empty sheaves When all the golden grain is done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON YOUR MISSION by ELLEN M. HUNTINGTON GATES THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT; GEORGE III AND A DYING WOMAN IN WINDSOR FOREST by ROBERT SOUTHEY FOREIGN CHILDREN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON FAREWELL TO ARRAS by ADAM DE LA HALLE THE SUPPLIANTS: THE WORLD'S HARMONIOUS PLAN by AESCHYLUS |