(TO J. L. W.) 'MORE Poets yet!' -- I hear him say, Arming his heavy hand to slay; -- 'Despite my skill and "swashing blow," They seem to sprout where'er I go; -- I killed a host but yesterday!' Slash on, O Hercules! You may. Your task's, at best, a Hydra-fray; And though you cut, not less will grow More Poets yet! Too arrogant! For who shall stay The first blind motions of the May? Who shall out-blot the morning glow? -- Or stem the full heart's overflow? Who? There will rise, till Time decay, More Poets yet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FABLE: THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON FORMERLY A SLAVE' (AN IDEALIZED PORTRAIT, BY E. VEDDER) by HERMAN MELVILLE METAMORPHOSES: BOOK 8. BAUCIS AND PHILEMON by PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD by WALTER RALEIGH DEAD MAN'S DUMP by ISAAC ROSENBERG TO ONE WHO ASKED by KENNETH SLADE ALLING SONGS OF NIGHT TO MORNING: 5 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 29 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |