I do not fear my thoughts will die, For never yet it was so dry As to scorch the azure of the sky. It knows no withering and no drought, Though all eyes crop, it ne'er gives out. My eyes my flocks are; Mountains my crops are. I do not fear my flocks will stray, For they were made to roam the day, For they can wander with the latest light, Yet be at home at night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GREEN RIVER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A CONSERVATIVE by CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON GILMAN THE ORIGIN OF DIDACTIC POETRY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL INSOMNIA by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS THE LAST LOOK O' HAME by HEW AINSLIE |