THE WORLD’S MISER
Reading edition
By Theodore Maynard
I
A miser with an eager face Sees that each roseleaf is in place. He keeps beneath strong bolts and bars The piercing beauty of the stars. The colours of the dying day He hoards as treasure—well He may!—
And saves with care (lest they be lost) The dainty diagrams of frost. He counts the hairs of every head, And grieves to see a sparrow dead.
II
Among the yellow primroses He holds His Summer palaces, And sets the grass about them all To guard them as His spearmen small. He fixes on each wayside stone A mark to show it as His own, And knows when raindrops fall through air Whether each single one be there, That gathered into ponds and brooks. They may become His picture books, To show in every spot and place The living glory of His face.