Give me the poet's life divine, For ever fresh and young; The only hours that vex his soul Are hours that give no song; If he but can, A homeless man, Turn suffering into songs divine -- That poet's life is still divine, His life is still divine. If but the Muse will help his soul To sing a grief that's wild, No faithless spouse can pull him down, Nor disobedient child; Let her but prove His faithful love, To sing his cares in songs divine -- That poet's life is still divine, His life is still divine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE BALCONY by PAUL VERLAINE THE PHANTOM-LOVER [OR, WOOER] by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES COWSLIPS AND LARKS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES RECESSIONAL (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON UPON THE DEATH OF MY EVER CONSTANT FRIEND DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by HENRY KING (1592-1669) |