She is gamesome and good, But of mutable mood, -- No dreary repeater now and again, She will be all things to all men. She who is old, but nowise feeble, Pours her power into the people, Merry and manifold without bar, Makes and moulds them what they are, And what they call their city way Is not their way, but hers, And what they say they made to-day, They learned of the oaks and firs. She spawneth men as mallows fresh, Hero and maiden, flesh of her flesh; She drugs her water and her wheat With the flavors she finds meet, And gives them what to drink and eat; And having thus their bread and growth, They do her bidding, nothing loath. What's most theirs is not their own, But borrowed in atoms from iron and stone, And in their vaunted works of Art The master-stroke is still her part. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN OLD WOMAN: 2. HARVEST by EDITH SITWELL THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON LONDON, 1802 (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SONNET: AT STRATFORD-UPON-AVON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE by JOHN ARMSTRONG TO A HUMMING BIRD by GLADYS ARNE THE LAY OF THE OLD WOMAN CLOTHED IN GREY; A LEGEND OF DOVER by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |