Explore "The Man Digging" by Herbert Trench on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The isle was barren. Far as hawk may scan / In moors it roll'd up to a headland bare / Save for one narrow patch, by ceaseless care / Sumptuous with corn. Against the sky a Man / Digging the waste I saw, -- bow'd veteran / A stubborn spade he drave in stubborn ground / And root and rock flung sheer without a sound / Over the bleak edge.... Then anew began.
"You, who have lodged in the teeth of the abyss / Your cabin low, and triumph rich as this / Wrung from the ocean-bitter mountain side, / What help'd you most to bring such treasure out? " / He stood, and after scrutiny replied, / "The thing on which I lean, the Spade of Doubt. "