The fields of my neighbor are green indeed, But whether the answer be soil or seed Or whether moon magic or whether late dew, I'd never be saying until I knew The secret of roots in the cool, black earth -- The secret of roots from their first day's birth. For roots must feed well if they long to live, Must feed upon strength if its strength they'd give; On lushness, on sweetness, on sharp tanged verve; On steel-sinewed courage, on velvet nerve. Since stout roots will hold though life's winds be keen -- Its last things will tell what the first has been -- So be he knight-errant, or be he knave, The sod will lie richer on one man's grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CUMBERLAND by HERMAN MELVILLE THE RUINES OF TIME by EDMUND SPENSER THE SHADOWED ROAD by WILLIAM ROSE BENET IN MEMORY OF AGOSTINO ISOLA, OF CAMBRIDGE, WHO DIED 1797 by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE DEEPER FRIENDSHIP by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |