Poems with rhymes of sand

And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-

Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.

Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

The people along the sand
All turn and look one way.
They turn their back on the land.

Apart, intrinsic, stand,
And this brief tragedy of flesh
Is shifted like a sand;

I hunted all the Sand—
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand—

And Love builds on the golden sand,
And Love builds on the rose-winged cloud,
And sometimes Love builds on the land!

Four—have recovered the Land—
Forty—gone down together—
Into the boiling Sand—

Wild hands, and hammers at the land,
Scatters in liquid dust, and drifts
To death among the dusty sand.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

And when the cruel sun made hot the sand,
And Afric's gnats the sweltering face and hand

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

(Not lightly touching your person, Lord of the land!)
Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand
On the firm-packed sand,

Hvor Nordhavets Bølge slaaer høit paa Strand
Om de sorte Vrag i det hvide Sand,

And strewn with the blind, white sand,
Beside me a suffering, dumb world moans
On the breast of a lonely land.

Marked by the light surf on the level sand,
Or where afar the ship-lights faintly shine
Like wandering fairy fires, that oft on land

In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:

Leads the sad captives countless as the sand,
Derides the princes and destroys the land.

Splintering on the sand,
Drawing back, but leaving
Lingeringly the land.

And thrice outstretched my hand,
Made one of day, and one of night,
And one of the salt sea-sand.