Others make verses of grace. Mine are all muscle and sinew. Others can picture your face. But I all the tumult within you. Others can give you delight, And delight I confess is worth giving. But my songs must tickle and bite And burn with the ardor of living. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD IRONSIDES by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES SONNET: ADDRESSED TO HAYDON (1) by JOHN KEATS ODE TO THE WEST WIND by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY COME UP FROM THE FIELDS FATHER by WALT WHITMAN THE PERSIANS (PERSAE): SALAMIS - MESSENGER by AESCHYLUS PSALM 9. CONFITEBOR TIBI by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE AN ANCIENT GODDESS; IN TWO PICTURES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |