A man of marble holds the throne, With looks composed and resolute: Till death, a prince whom princes own, Draws near to touch the marble mute. The play is over: good my friends! Murmur the pale lips: your applause! With what a grace the actor ends: How loyal to dramatic laws! A brooding beauty on his brow; Irony brooding over sin: The next imperial actor now Bids the satyric piece begin. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FAMILIAR DREAM by PAUL VERLAINE MY SWEET BROWN GAL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE EAGLE THAT IS FORGOTTEN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY BEAT! BEAT! DRUMS! by WALT WHITMAN THE POWER OF MUSIC by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE BRIDE AND GROOM by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS |