MARY! I want a lyre with other strings, Such aid from Heaven as some have feign'd they drew, An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new And undebased by praise of meaner things; That ere through age or woe I shed my wings, I may record thy worth with honour due, In verse as musical as thou art true, And that immortalizes whom it sings: But thou hast little need. There is a Book By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, On which the eyes of God not rarely look, A chronicle of actions just and bright -- There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine; And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE TAVERN by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON FALSE FRIEND by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON ON HEARING HIM MISPRAISED by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE SURRENDER by JOSEPH BEAUMONT ELECTRIC LIGHT-VERSE by L. ALLEN BECK DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SONNET: 8. TO THE RIVER ITCHIN, NEAR WINTON by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES |