Wisdom, slow product of laborious years, The only fruit that life's cold winter bears; Thy sacred seeds in vain in youth we lay, By the fierce storm of passion torn away. Should some remain in a rich gen'rous soil, They long lie hid, and must be rais'd with toil; Faintly they struggle with inclement skies, No sooner born than the poor planter dies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STREET CORNER COLLEGE by KENNETH PATCHEN PROMETHEUS UNBOUND; A LYRICAL DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE CHERRY TREES by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS AMY WENTWORTH; FOR WILLIAM BRADFORD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 7. MIDSUMMER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM WAR AUTOBIOGRAPHY; WRITTEN IN ILLNESS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE HEAVEN THAT'S HERE by ALICE CARY THE FOREST SPRING by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN AN AURORA BOREALIS; ROSLIN CASTLE by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK |