The brooklet fell from the crannied rock, Bubbling to the frightful sea. The ocean roared, then began to mock: Teardrop, what do you want of me? I am the tempest and the fear; At my bounds the heavens commence. Do you think to help me here, Puny, me that am immense? The spring replied to the bitter sea: Without bustle or glory I furnish the link That is lacking in all your vast entity— A drop of water good to drink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDSUMMER BIRDS by ROBERT FROST IN A SWEDISH GRAVEYARD by EMMA LAZARUS SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES by EDWIN MARKHAM THE LAKE BOATS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE DOLL by EDITH SITWELL |