It's foolish to bring money To any spring wood, Jewels won't help you, Gold's no good. Silver won't buy you, One small leaf. You may bring joy here, You may bring grief. You should look for Tufted moss, Marked where a light foot Ran across. Where the old rose hips Shrivel brown And dried clematis Bloom hangs down. There you'll find what Everyman needs, Wild religion Without any creeds, Green that lifts its Blossoming head, New life springing Among the dead. You needn't bring money To this market place, Or think you can bargain for Wild flower grace. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHTINGALE by PAUL VERLAINE THE TRANSLATION by MARK VAN DOREN RECOGNITION by SUSIE MONTGOMERY BEST THE TOPMOST BOUGH by GAMALIEL BRADFORD THE CAPTAIN'S LADY by ROBERT BURNS THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN by GEORGE CANNING |