NOTHING but leaves; the spirit grieves Over a wasted life; Sin committed while conscience slept, Promises made, but never kept, Hatred, battle, and strife; Nothing but leaves! Nothing but leaves; no garnered sheaves Of life's fair, ripened grain; Words, idle words, for earnest deeds; We sow our seeds, -- lo! tares and weeds: We reap with toil and pain, Nothing but leaves! Nothing but leaves; memory weaves No veil to screen the past: As we retrace our weary way, Counting each lost and misspent day, We find, sadly, at last, Nothing but leaves! And shall we meet the Master so, Bearing our withered leaves? The Saviour looks for perfect fruit, We stand before him, humbled, mute; Waiting the words he breathes, -- "Nothing but leaves?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 60 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SONNET: TO L.T. IN FLORENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SPRING NIGHT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 50. FAREWELL TO JULIET (12) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT INTERLUDE by MAXWELL BODENHEIM LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP by EMILY JANE BRONTE |