Shall I have jealous thoughts to nurse, When I behold a rich man's house? Not though his windows, thick as stars, Number the days in every year; I, with one window for each month, Am rich in four or five to spare. But when I count his shrubberies, His fountains there, and clumps of trees, Over the palings of his park I leap with my primeval blood; Down wild ravines to Ocean's rocks, Clean through the heart of No-man's Wood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER TU FU (THEY SAY YOU'RE STAYING IN A MOUNTAIN TEMPLE) by MARVIN BELL CHILD MARGARET by CARL SANDBURG ODE TO ETHIOPIA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR GARDEN DAYS: 7. THE GARDENER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |