For thought & not praise; Thought is the wages For which I sell days, Will gladly sell ages, And willing grow old, Deaf, & dumb, & blind, & cold, Melting matter into dreams, Panoramas which I saw And whatever glows or seems Into substance into Law | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG (10) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI LOVE-LILY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI AUBADE [OR, A MORNING SONG FOR IMOGEN], FR. CYMBELINE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 104 by ALFRED TENNYSON A LOVE BARGAINE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT SONNET: 2 by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT |