HERE, where old Nankin glitters, Here, where men's tumult seems As faint as feeble twitters Of sparrows heard in dreams, We watch Limoges enamel, An old chased silver camel, A shawl, the gift of Schamyl, And manuscripts in reams. Here, where the hawthorn pattern On flawless cup and plate Need fear no housemaid slattern, Fell minister of fate, 'Mid webs divinely woven, And helms and hauberks cloven, On music of Beethoven We dream and meditate. We know not, and we need not To know how mortals fare, Of Bills that pass, or speed not, Time finds us unaware, Yea, creeds and codes may crumble, And Dilke and Gladstone stumble, And eat the pie that's humble, We neither know nor care! Can kings or clergies alter The crackle on one plate? Can creeds or systems palter With what is truly great? With Corots and with Millets, With April daffodillies, Or make the maiden lilies Bloom early or bloom late? Nay, here 'midst Rhodian roses, 'Midst tissues of Cashmere, The Soul sublime reposes, And knows not hope nor fear; Here all she sees her own is, And musical her moan is, O'er Caxtons and Bodonis, Aldine and Elzevir! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND by PHILIP FRENEAU EPITAPH ON AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN EXODUS FOR OREGON by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE NATURAL FIRE by CLIFFORD ALLEN DEATH'S JEST-BOOK by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE PLACE OF LOVE by S. C. BRACKETT |