THREE QUATRAINS: 3, by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSONPoet AnalysisPoet's Biography
First Line: We cannot crown ourselves with everything Last Line: Time finds a withered leaf in every laurel.
We cannot crown ourselves with everything, Nor can we coax the Fates for us to quarrel: No matter what we are, or what we sing, Time finds a withered leaf in every laurel.