Poems: A Chapter From the Modern Pilgrims Progress (Classic Reprint) - Tapa dura

Sinopsis

Excerpt from Poems: A Chapter From the Modern Pilgrims Progress

I care not for such sad, wild strains as these, I care not for pale field-flowers like to thine, Nor yet for fractured stones, though set in gold. Thou wilt bend over them, and from thy eyes Some pitying drops will fall to give them worth. A beggar might choose pebbles by the road, As well, to take unto a king, whose crown Is set with gems a peasant better could Choose wayside flowers, and bear them to a queen Whose palace gardens glow in gorgeous blaze Of tropic hues. The king, the queen, might turn In cold disdain; but thou, the king of men, Wilt say, No flower but that to me is sweet.

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