I Love (for that upon the wings of Fame Shall perhaps mocke Death or time's Darts) my Name. I love it more because 'twas given by you; I love it most because 'twas your name too. For if I chance to slip, a conscious shame Pluckes me, and bids me not defile your name. I'm glad that Citie t' whom I ow'd before, (But ah me! fate hath crost that willing score) A Father, gave me a Godfather too, And I'm more glad because it gave me you: Whom I may rightly thinke, and terme to be Of the whole Citie an Epitomie. I thanke my carefull fate which found out one (When Nature had not licenced my tongue Farther then cryes) who should my office doe; I thanke her more because she found out you. In whose each looke I may a sentence see, In whose each deed a teaching Homilie. How shall I pay this debt to you? My Fate Denyes me Indian Pearle or Persian Plate. Which though it did not, to requite you thus, Were to send Apples to Alcinous, And sell the cunningst way; No, when I can In every Leafe, in every Verse write Man; When my Quill relisheth a Schoole no more, When my pen-featherd Muse hath learnt to soare, And gotten wings as well as feet; looke then For equall thankes from my unwearied Pen: Till future ages say; 'twas you did give A name to me, and I made yours to live. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SLAVE MOTHER by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER ARIEL'S SONG (2), FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE CORTEGE FOR ROSENBLOOM by WALLACE STEVENS THE ZONE OF VENUS by ANTIPHANES PSALM 103 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE POEM-SKETCH IN 3 PARTS: THE COMING OF THE GREAT BIRD by HILDA CONKLING OLNEY HYMNS: 33. THE WAITING SOUL by WILLIAM COWPER |