'WHAT is it then,' -- some Reader asks, -- 'What is it that attaches Your fancy so to fans and masks, -- To periwigs and patches? 'Is Human Life to-day so poor, -- So bloodless, -- you disdain it, To 'galvanize' the Past once more?' -- Permit me. I'll explain it. This Age I grant (and grant with pride), Is varied, rich, eventful; But, if you touch its weaker side, Deplorably resentful: Belaud it, and it takes your praise With air of calm conviction; Condemn it, and at once you raise A storm of contradiction. Whereas with these old Shades of mine, Their ways and dress delight me; And should I trip by word or line, They cannot well indict me. Not that I think to err. I seek To steer 'twixt blame and blindness; I strive (as some one said in Greek) To speak the truth with kindness: But -- should I fail to render clear Their title, rank, or station -- I still may sleep secure, nor fear A suit for defamation. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...L.E.L.'S LAST QUESTION by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE FOLLY OF BEING COMFORTED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS EASTER by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN A VALENTINE by WARREN K. BILLINGS TREE-BURIAL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EPITAPH ON WAT by ROBERT BURNS DIVINE LOVE; THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTIC OF TRUE RELIGION by JOHN BYROM |