I do not sit and sigh for wealth untold, It never thrusts itself into my schemes; I shrink from all your piles of clanking gold, -- Better my sparkling hoard of golden dreams. A life of limousined and jeweled ease Is but a round of fathomless ennui. Your motor cars, your pearls, your stables -- these Are naught to me. Better a homely flat in Harlem's wilds Than costly living's spurious benefits; Better a simple butter-cake at Childs' Than caviar and stalled ox at the Ritz. Your unearned gold, to me, is shot with flaws; A life of honest toil I'd make my lot, -- Which really makes it very nice, because It's what I've got. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BATTLE OF BRITAIN by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE SMALL SELF AND THE LIBERAL SELF by JAMES GALVIN WHAT WE SAID THE LIGHT SAID by JAMES GALVIN THE BUTCHER SHOP by DAVID IGNATOW IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER AT NIGHT; SONNET by AMY LOWELL |