Take the golden shovel
To search the high and low
All gold and silver ware
Much more gain to the tow.
Ne’er take the dreaded shovel
To curse the land and thee
For in the so of doing
No wares for you, nor me.
Words lift as the shovel
Spirits of youth and men
Gain the wise sully the proud
Soul destined peace the tend.

About tobias taoh

author, contemplative art reveal, geochemistry, research associate, poet, theoscience
This entry was posted in Poetry, timr1, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.