Classic Poem

WANT .

Where is the power I fancied mine?
Can I have emptied my soul of thought?
In yesterday's fulness lay no sign
That to-day would be a time of drought.
What if thought fail me for evermore?
The world that awaits a well-filled plan
Must, railing, cry at my long-closed door,
" He cannot finish what he began. "

PLENTY .

Thought dashes on thought within my soul:
Time will not serve for the bounding-line.
I think it would fail to mete the whole
If old Methuselah's years were mine.
Like the famous spring that is sometimes dry,
Then flows with a river's whelming might,
The current of thought now runs so high
It covers the earthy bed from sight.