O CHATTERTON! how very sad thy fate! Dear child of sorrow--son of misery! How soon the film of death obscur'd that eye, Whence Genius mildly flash'd, and high debate. How soon that voice, majestic and elate, Melted in dying numbers! Oh! how nigh Was night to thy fair morning. Thou didst die A half-blown flow'ret which cold blasts amate. But this is past: thou art among the stars Of highest Heaven: to the rolling spheres Thou sweetly singest: naught thy hymning mars, Above the ingrate world human fears. On earth the good man base detraction bars From thy fair name, and waters it with tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GREY by JOSIE R. HUNT VERSES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM OF A LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK by THOMAS MOORE IMITATIONS OF HORACE: ODE IV, 1 by ALEXANDER POPE AMORETTI: 68 by EDMUND SPENSER THE CONFIDENT SCIENTIST by ALEXIS IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE: PROGNE'S DREAM by JOHN ARMSTRONG A GIFT OF SPRING by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |