SPRUNG from the arid rock devoid of soil, In vig'rous life I saw one blade of wheat, Bearing its precious grain, full-lobed and sweet, Remote from eye of him whose lusty toil In other harvest recompense hath found; And it seemed good to me that labour should Beyond its aim or asking thus abound, While reaping to itself its purchased food: So, too, from him, who the prolific thought Sows in the cultured field of intellect, A wandering breath its course may intersect, And bear an embryo with rich promise fraught Within some barren soul to germinate, And fill with fruitful life what else were desolate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLUE AND THE GRAY by FRANCIS MILES FINCH AT HOME by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE MILKING-MAID by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI A QUESTION by JOHN MILLINGTON SYNGE TO THE VERS LIBRIST WHO USES ONLY THE MINOR KEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SEASONS by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS THE SIDEWALKS OF NEW YORK by JAMES W. BLAKE THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: A LOVE LETTER by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |