This is man's noblest edifice. All else Crumbles and rots. His loftiest stone is thrust Into the patient and ironic dust. His iron ships, his scornful citadels Are scattered by a whiff of fiery shells That mingle with them in a pool of rust. But words, mere words, invulnerable, august, Become his statesmen and his sentinels. He lets them do his fighting; sits and calls On them to keep the world from going free. They build him stubborn forts where he can be Safe from his manhood, its demands and brawls; While Life, foiled by this soft security, Beats futile hands on vague, invisible walls. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EPITAPH ON M.H. by CHARLES COTTON SONG OF YOUTH by LULU PIPER AIKEN THE SONG OF HER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 10 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH AN AEOLIAN HARP by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY INCLUSIONS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING DEATH (IN MEMORIAM MAGGIE MEAGHER) by GEORGE FREDERICK CAMERON |