Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONNET: 2, 2, by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN



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SONNET: 2, 2, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Nor idle all, though naught he sees in thine
Last Line: A still stong sleep till but the east is red.


Nor idle all, though naught he sees in thine
But dallying with the day to make it brief
And thinks it braver far to tramp the leaf
With dog and gun, through tamerac, birch, and pine
Or lounge the day beneath a tavern sign:
Yet in his labor can I well discern
Great workings moving, both in his and mine.
What though indeed a joyless verse I turn,
The flowers are fair, and give their glistening heaps
To grace her grave: and so tonight I pass
To that low mound gone over now with grass
And find her stirless still, whilst overhead
Creation moveth, and the farmboy sleeps,
A still stong sleep till but the east is red.





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