IN my loamy nook As I dig my hole I observe men look At a stone, and sigh As they pass it by To some far goal. Something it says To their glancing eyes That must distress The frail and lame, And the strong of frame Gladden or surprise. Do signs on its face Declare how far Feet have to trace Before they gain Some blest champaign Where no gins are? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM: 45. ON MY FIRST SON by BEN JONSON THE BIRTH SONG OF CHRIST by EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS WEDDED (PROVENCAL AIR) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ANOTHER REAPER by WILLIAM H. ARMSTRONG III PSALM 64 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE HE WONDERS WHETHER TO PRAISE OR TO BLAME HER by RUPERT BROOKE |