I THINK earth's noblest, most pathetic sight Is some old poet, round whose laurel-crown The long gray locks are streaming softly down; -- Whose evening, touched by prescient shades of night, Grows tranquillized, in calm, ethereal light: -- Such, such art @3thou@1, O master! worthier grown In the fair sunset of thy full renown, -- Poising, perchance, thy spiritual wings for flight! Ah, heaven! why shouldst thou from thy place depart? God's court is thronged with minstrels, rich with song; Even now, a new note swells the immaculate choir, -- But thou, whose strains have filled our lives so long, Still from the altar of thy reverent heart Let golden dreams ascend, and thoughts of fire! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETA FIT, NON NASCITUR by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY (FROM A WESTERNER'S POINT OF VIEW) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE REVEILLE by FRANCIS BRET HARTE WHAT THE BULLET SANG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE TEMPER (1) by GEORGE HERBERT A CHRISTMAS CAROL by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND THE NILE by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT |