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Poem by Eleanor Farjeon Sonnets. 2. O Spare Me from the Hand of Niggard Love O spare me from the hand of niggard love That grasps at interest on what it lends, And sets cold counsel as a guard above The hoard it calculates before it spends. Such misers of the riches of the heart Bear their untested treasure to the grave, And miss the whole, striving to save the part, By the bare measure they have striven to save. Is it for pride in saying at the end: See, Life! I spent not all that thou hast given-- Lo, this and this and this I did not spend! I stinted earth of bliss to add to heaven. Alas, poor fools! life only gave ye this Because earth has such need of heavenly bliss. Eleanor Farjeon Eleanor Farjeon's other poems:
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