IAM old Euphron, with no broad array Of arable, nor vineyards rich in wine; My ploughshare scrapes a bit of shallow clay, The juices of a grape or two are mine: Mite can but yield its mite. God, give me more, And take the first-fruits of my ampler store. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEGY: THE GHOST WHOSE LIPS WERE WARM; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL AFTER THE QUARREL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO THE SOUTH ON ITS NEW SLAVERY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TWO WITCHES: 1. THE WITCH OF COOS by ROBERT FROST AFTER A JOURNEY by THOMAS HARDY SANTA FILOMENA by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |