The young men leap, and toss their golden hair, Run round the land, or sail across the seas: But one was stricken with a sore disease, -- The lean and swarthy poet of despair. Know me, the slave of fear and death and shame, A sad Comedian, a most tragic Fool, Shallow, imperfect, fashioned without rule, The doubtful shadow of a demon flame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANCHORED TO THE INFINITE by EDWIN MARKHAM INSULTING BEAUTY by JOHN WILMOT SONNET TO CHARLOTTE M-- by BERNARD BARTON WERE IT ONLY NOW by A. W. BELL THE FOREST POOL by GRACE BLAINE TO MR. BLEECKER, ON HIS PASSAGE TO NEW YORK by ANN ELIZA BLEECKER THOMAS A KEMPIS: DE IMITATIONE CHRISTI by RICHARD ROGERS BOWKER |