@3Neither buskin now, nor bays Challenge I: a Lady's praise Shall content my proudest hope. Their applause was all my scope; And to their shrines properly Revels dedicated be: Whose soft ears none ought to pierce But with smooth and gentle verse. Let the tragic poem swell, Raising raging fiends from hell; And let epic dactyls range Swelling seas and countries strange: Little room small things contains; Easy praise quits easy pains. Suffer them whose brows do sweat To gain honour by the great: It's enough if men me name A retailer of such fame.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A GOODNIGHT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TWILIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HERITAGE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE QUAKER GRAVEYARD by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL THE MAGIC MIRROR by HENRY MILLS ALDEN THE FROGS: HYMN OF THE INITIATES by ARISTOPHANES THE SPINNING-WHEEL (YONDERLAND SONG) by LYA BERGER |