From, that fair land and drear land in the South,
Of which through years I do not cease to think,
I brought a tale, learned not by word of mouth,
But formed by finding here one golden link
And there another; and with hands unskilled
For such fine work, but patient of all pain
For love of it, I sought therefrom to build
What might have been at first the goodly chain.
It is not golden now: my craft knows more
Of working baser metal than of fine;
But to those fate-wrought rings of precious ore
I add these rugged iron links of mine.
-from, That Fair Land And Drear Land In The Southâ?
John Boyle O'reilly
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Poem topics: fate, pain, work, mouth, chain, precious, iron, love, I love you, golden, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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