O Muse, we are so many! Everywhere The land seems full of us; and thou couldst spare The most, no doubt, completely; Ay, were the tuneful tribe all swept away— Such folk we are!—the people, I dare say, Would take it very sweetly. But still we sing, or chirp, or utter some wild call, And hover around thy golden mountain,—all, From eagles down to swallows. O Muse, thou must be weary! Dared I ask Thy benediction on so slight a task, I'd ask about as follows: Blow hitherward a little breath of song; Don't blow too powerful, nor blow too long; And, in the strain I borrow, Set two or three sweet notes that on the air Will not die wholly, but will unaware Return again tomorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETA FIT, NON NASCITUR by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON HERMES OF THE WAYS by HILDA DOOLITTLE BAYARD TAYLOR by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AT STRATFORD-ON-AVON by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL CLYTEMNESTRA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |