Poems, Series 3: XXVII. On the bleakness of my lot
XXVII. On the bleakness of my lot
ON the bleakness of my lot
Bloom I strove to raise.
Late, my acre of a rock
Yielded grape and maize.
Soil of flint if steadfast tilled
Will reward the hand;
Seed of palm by Lybian sun
Fructified in sand.