What lovely things Thy hand hath made: The smooth-plumed bird In its emerald shade, The seed of the grass, The speck of stone Which the wayfaring ant Stirs -- and hastes on! Though I should sit By some tarn in thy hills, Using its ink As the spirit wills To write of Earth's wonders, Its live, willed things, Flit would the ages On soundless wings Ere unto Z My pen drew nigh; Leviathan told, And the honey-fly: And still would remain My wit to try -- My worn reeds broken, The dark tarn dry, All words forgotten -- Thou, Lord, and I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BRAVEST BATTLE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 49 by PHILIP SIDNEY ROMANCE by WALTER JAMES REDFERN TURNER THE TWO GLASSES by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX HARVARD DECLARES WAR by BRENT DOW ALLINSON THE CALIPH'S DRAUGHT by EDWIN ARNOLD A COMPARISON OF THE LIFE OF MAN by RICHARD BARNFIELD |