As one of some fat tillage dispossessed, Weighing the yield of these four faded years, If any ask what fruit seems loveliest, What lasting gold among the garnered ears, -- Ah, then I'll say what hours I had of thine, Therein I reaped Time's richest revenue, Read in thy text the sense of David's line, Through thee achieved the love that Shakespeare knew. Take then his book, laden with mine own love As flowers made sweeter by deep-drunken rain, That when years sunder and between us move Wide waters, and less kindly bonds constrain, Thou may'st turn here, dear boy, and reading see Some part of what thy friend once felt for thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO NANCY by ROBERT BURNS AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG by OLIVER GOLDSMITH GARDEN DAYS: 7. THE GARDENER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SONG OF THE ANGELS AT THE NATIVITY by NAHUM TATE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 49. AL-MAJID by EDWIN ARNOLD SCHUBERT'S (UNFINISHED) SYMPHONY by FRANCES BARTLETT |