We pour upon the poet's head The bitter gall that saviors drink; Then quote his lines when we would link Life's setting sun with new dawn's red. The light he spreads when he is here May seem but darkness to the throng; But when reflected by the strong -- New stars -- new skies -- new worlds appear. Though Keats and Whitman felt the blow Of fortune's flail and critic's scorn, They sang for millions yet unborn. Do poets fail? But this I know: The buried gold in Egypt's tomb May tell of wealth and ancient pride But Job and Homer still reside Within to make our spirits bloom. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE BEAR by EDITH SITWELL THE KINGS by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY BEYOND THE POTOMAC by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE AT ELLIS ISLAND by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 16. VENUS INCARNATE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |