Call the illusion what you will, people the balcony with the leaning, beckoning masks of your own lunacy: tune your guitar to these, bringing your heart to woo your head, a struggling mood reaching clear to art; and don't listen to neighbors applauding; or see the moon come tossing a copper ring: for a man may lose his song stooping to a penny. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 12. AT THE DRAPER'S by THOMAS HARDY THE AMERICAN FOREST GIRL by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS VIRGILS GNAT: DEDICATORY SONNET by EDMUND SPENSER COMRADES by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY |