WHO prop, thou ask'st, in these bad days, my mind? He much, the old man, who, clearest-soul'd of men, Saw The Wide Prospect, and the Asian Fen, And Tmolus' hill, and Smyrna's bay, though blind. Much he, whose friendship I not long since won, That halting slave, who in Nicopolis Taught Arrian, when Vespasian's brutal son Clear'd Rome of what most sham'd him. But be his My special thanks, whose even-balanc'd soul, From first youth tested up to extreme old age, Business could not make dull, nor Passion wild: Who saw life steadily, and saw it whole: The mellow glory of the Attic stage; Singer of sweet Colonus, and its child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HIS SAVIOURS WORDS, GOING TO THE CROSSE by ROBERT HERRICK THE BRAVEST BATTLE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE MASTER by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MOONLIGHT by SERENA COBIA BAILEY TO DR. PRIESTLEY. DEC. 29, 1792 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD HERMAN; OR, THE BROKEN SPEAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |