DO I know these, slack-shaped and wan, Whose substance, one time fresh and furrowless, Is now a rag drawn over a skeleton, As in El Greco's canvases? -- Whose cheeks have slipped down, lips become indrawn, And statures shrunk to dwarfishness? Do they know me, whose former mind Was like an open plain where no foot falls, But now is as a gallery portrait-lined, And scored with necrologic scrawls, Where feeble voices rise, once full-defined, From underground in curious calls? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FELICIA HEMANS by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. ADVICE TO THE STOUT by JOHN ARMSTRONG THE EWE-BUCHTIN'S BONNIE by GRISELL BAILLIE TOM O' BEDLAM'S SONG by FRANCIS BEAUMONT THE PRISONER by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HYMN OF THE WALDENSES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |