RISING from the murk and mould, What a wealth of cowslip-gold! Just as if the noon had sown, Affluent, its ingots there; Just as if the sun had thrown Blazing jewels from its zone, Radiantly fair. This my precious Ophir is; This Golconda's treasuries; Coins of unsurpassed dye, Mine to have and mine to hold! Croesus counts his coffers; I, Underneath the open sky, Count my cowslip-gold! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUSE'S PETITION TO DOCTOR PRIESTLY FOUND IN THE TRAP .. by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MOTTO TO THE SONGS OF INNOCENCE & OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE YOUNG MAY MOON by THOMAS MOORE THE POET'S SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON AUTHOR TO HIS CHILD by FRANCES AIRTH THE QUEEN IN FRANCE; AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH BALLAD by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |