I AM Thy grass, O Lord! I grow up sweet and tall But for a day, beneath Thy sword To lie at evenfall. Yet have I not enough In that brief day of mine? The wind, the bees, the wholesome stuff The sun pours out like wine. Behold, this is my crown, -- Love will not let me be; Love holds me here; Love cuts me down; And it is well with me. Lord, Love, keep it but so; Thy purpose is full plain: I die that after I may grow As tall, as sweet again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PREJUDICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE FACTORY; 'TIS AN ACCURSED THING! by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON THE CROSS OF SNOW by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HIGHER GOOD by THEODORE PARKER ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 49 by PHILIP SIDNEY FACADE: 27. WHEN SIR BEELZEBUB by EDITH SITWELL A LEAVE-TAKING: 1 by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE FLOWERING TREE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES AN ELEGY OF HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |