YOU walk my studio's modest round, With slowly supercilious air; While in each lifted eyebrow lurks, The keenness of an ambushed sneer. You lift your glass, and scan the walls, @3Between@1 the pictures -- with a glance Which takes the curtained drapery in, But views the art-work all askance: A sigh! a shrug! and then you turn Homeward -- your judgment fixed as fate -- The labors of a life-time gauged, Serenely in your shallow pate! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW TO KNOW LOVE FROM DECEIT by WILLIAM BLAKE THE FUNERAL by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE ON THE BUILDING OF SPRINGFIELD by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE FOOL AND THE POET by ALEXANDER POPE AIRY NOTHINGS. FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES: NEWS OF WAR by AESCHYLUS RECOMPENSE by JESSE M. BALL ALLEN |