Wisdom, slow product of laborious years, The only fruit that life's cold winter bears; Thy sacred seeds in vain in youth we lay, By the fierce storm of passion torn away. Should some remain in a rich gen'rous soil, They long lie hid, and must be rais'd with toil; Faintly they struggle with inclement skies, No sooner born than the poor planter dies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAIDEN CITY by CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH TONNA UPON HIS LEAVING HIS MISTRESS by JOHN WILMOT THE GOLDEN YEAR! by ALFRED AUSTIN ON THE DEATH OF JAZZ by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS THE LEADY'S TOWER by WILLIAM BARNES |