PLOW not nor plant this arid mound. Here is no sap for seed, No ferment for your need -- Ungrateful ground! No sun can warm this spot God has forgot; No rain can penetrate Its barren slate. Demonic winds blow last year's stubble From its hard slope. Go, leave the hopeless without hope; Spare your trouble. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KIND MOON by SARA TEASDALE ON DIGITAL EXTREMITIES by FRANK GELETT BURGESS FLORENCE VANE by PHILIP PENDLETON COOKE POOR [OR, COCK] ROBIN by MOTHER GOOSE FAR - FAR - AWAY (FOR MUSIC) by ALFRED TENNYSON |