THE round earth bears him without pay, Heaven brings sweet air to breathe, Unto his brain each dying day Soft slumber doth bequeathe; Clear water runs in the mountain stream, And sun gives glow, and star gives gleam. O tiller of the wheat-land, give -- O miller by the brook-strand, give -- O shepherd, of thy fleeces give The little that he needs to live. He will never do ye wrong, But pay in ringing gold of song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CORPORATE ENTITY by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH ASOLANDO: EPILOGUE by ROBERT BROWNING THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: NOVEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 1 by GEORGE BARKER PARACELSUS: 2. PARACELSUS ATTAINS by ROBERT BROWNING THE PULSE BENEATH THE BARK by STANTON ARTHUR COBLENTZ |