Do not guard this as rich stuff without mark Closed in a cedarn dark, Nor lay it down with tragic masks and greaves Licked by the tongues of leaves. Nor let it be as eggs under the wings Of helpless startled things, Nor encompassed by song, nor any glory Perverse and transitory. Rather, like shards and straw upon coarse ground, Of little worth when found: Rubble in gardens, it and stones alike, That any spade may strike. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEEP IN THE NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE THE DESERTED HOUSE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE POETASTER: SONG (4) by BEN JONSON THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE ON THE MOOR by ROBERT ADAMSON (1832-) ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 14. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND - FROM THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE |