It is not the lad's own fishes, Nor the lad's own barley cakes That the loving Saviour blesses And with vast enrichment breaks. Likely 'twas his mother gave them From her poor, precarious hoard, And he only chanced to save them And to give them to the Lord. Mine or thine, -- who cares who buys it? Out of books or out of head? -- If the Saviour magnifies it, And the multitude are fed! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 2. CAMBODIA by KAREN SWENSON THE WANDERINGS OF OISIN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ROBIN HOOD, TO A FRIEND by JOHN KEATS SONNET: 10 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY GROWING OLD by KARLE WILSON BAKER TO ELIZABETH by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE SIR JOHN FRANKLIN by GEORGE HENRY BOKER HYMN FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF HARTFORD AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |