FAME guards the wreath we call a crown With other wreaths of fire, And dragging this or that man down Will not raise you the higher! Fear not too much the open seas, Nor yet yourself misdoubt; Clear the bright wake of geniuses, Then steadily steer out. That wicked men in league should be To push your craft aside, Is not the hint of modesty, But the poor conceit of pride. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINTER GARDEN THEATRE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 28. THE WELSH MARCHES by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE FROGS: THE RIVAL POETS by ARISTOPHANES THE THING TO DO by GAMALIEL BRADFORD REASON FOR LOVE'S BLINDENESS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |