STILL may the muses foster thee, O Friend, Who, while the vacant quidnuncs stand at gaze, Wond'ring what Prophet next the Fates may send, Still tread'st the ancient ways; Still climb'st the clear-cold altitudes of Song, Or ling'ring 'by the shore of old Romance,' Heed'st not the vogue, how little or how long, Of marvels made in France. Still to the summits may thy face be set, And long may we, that heard thy morning rhyme, Hang on thy noon-day music, nor forget In the hushed even-time! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE END OF THE WORLD by GORDON BOTTOMLEY IN TIME OF 'THE BREAKING OF NATIONS' by THOMAS HARDY THE HOCK-CART, OR HARVEST HOME by ROBERT HERRICK ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER by JOHN MILTON VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1885 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI OF THE LAST VERSES IN THE BOOK by EDMUND WALLER NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 27 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |