THE Fame we covet is a wand'ring air, Which against Silence wages constant war; For to be mute does her so much displease, That true, or false, she seldom holds her peace; She but a while can in a place remain, 'Tis running up and down, does her sustain; Tho' dead she seem, she quickly can revive, And with a thousand tongues, a Hydra live. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FAMILIAR DREAM by PAUL VERLAINE THOUGHTS ON THE COMMANDMENTS by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. WINTER WITH THE GULF STREAM by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS COCK-CROW by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS TURN O LIBERTAD by WALT WHITMAN THE SUN IS DOWN by JOANNA BAILLIE THE OLD BRIDGE by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN |