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...SOPHISTICATION by CONRAD AIKEN TO A DEAD LOVER by LOUISE BOGAN TRANSPOSITIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SUICIDE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CHARLOTTE CORDAY (REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL, JULY 17, 1793) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ELEGY: THE LITTLE GHOST WHO DIED FOR LOVE; FOR ALLANAH HARPER by EDITH SITWELL |