Since you have turned unkind, Then let the truth be known: We poets give our praise To any weed or stone, Or sulking bird that in The cold, sharp wind is dumb; To this, or that, or you -- Whatever's first to come. You came my way the first, When the life-force in my blood -- Coming from none knows where -- Had reached its highest flood; A time when any thing, No matter old or new, Could bring my song to birth -- Sticks, bones or rags, or you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EACH AND [OR, IN] ALL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE THREE KINGS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE FOUNDERS OF OHIO by WILLIAM HENRY VENABLE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 87. AL-GHANI by EDWIN ARNOLD MY DEAREST WIFE by WILLIAM BARNES LISTENING by KATHARINE LEE BATES AN EVENING HYMN by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |