MY God, a verse is not a crown; No point of honour, or gay suit; No hawk, or banquet, or renown; Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute. It cannot vault, or dance, or play; It never was in France or Spain; Nor can it entertain the day With a great stable or demain. It is no office, art, or news; Nor the exchange, or busie hall: But it is that which while I use, I am with thee, and Most take all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PASSING OF THE EX-SLAVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SERGEANT'S WEDDIN' by RUDYARD KIPLING RETURNING, WE HEAR THE LARKS by ISAAC ROSENBERG SONNET PREFIXED TO 'NENNIO, OR A TREATISE OF NOBILITY' by EDMUND SPENSER THE BELFRY PIGEON by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. THE GASTRIC MUSE by JOHN ARMSTRONG |