I AM all bent to glean the golden ore Little by little from the river-bed; Hoping the day to see When Crœsus shall be conquered in my store. Therefore, still sifting where the sands are spread, I labor patiently: Till, thus intent on this thing and no more,— If to a vein of silver I were led, It scarce could gladden me. And, seeing that no joy's so warm i' the core As this whereby the heart is comforted And the desire set free,— Therefore, thy bitter love is still my scope, Lady, from whom it is my life's sore theme More painfully to sift the grains of hope Than gold out of that stream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JACK AND JILL (1) by MOTHER GOOSE SONNET: 146 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ALCAICS: TO H. F. BROWN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TO A FRIEND WHOSE WORK HAS COME TO NOTHING by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PSALM 85 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 7 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |