No shame dissuades his thought, no scorn despoils Of beauty, who, the daily heaven beneath, Gathers his bread by runsides, rocks and groves. He drinks from rivers of a thousand soils, And where broad Nature blows, he takes his breath: For so his thought stands like the things he loves, In thunderous purple like Cascadnac peak, Or glimpses faint with grass and cinquefoils. The friend may listen with a sneering cheek, Concede the matter good and wish good luck, Or plainly say, "Your brain is planet-struck!" And drop your hoarded thought as vague and vain Like bypast flowers, to redden again in rain, Flung to the offal heap with shard and shuck. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EMIGRATION by LISA DOMINGUEZ ABRAHAM THE CASE OF DOMINEERING JOHN ALEXIS UPHAM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE FRENCH REVOLUTION by WILLIAM BLAKE EVENING SOLACE by CHARLOTTE BRONTE MY LITTLE HOUSE by MAY (MARY) CLARISSA GILLINGTON BYRON PICKING APPLES IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE SUMMONER'S PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |