OF me and of my theme think what thou wilt: The song of gladness one straight bolt can check. But I have never stood at Fortune's beck: Were she and her light crew to run atilt At my poor holding little would be spilt; Small were the praise for singing o'er that wreck. Who courts her dooms to strife his bended neck; He grasps a blade, not always by the hilt. Nathless she strikes at random, can be fell With other than those votaries she deals The black or brilliant from her thunder-rift. I say but that this love of Earth reveals A soul beside our own to quicken, quell, Irradiate, and through ruinous floods uplift. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE THE PRIMROSE by ROBERT HERRICK COMMEMORATIVE OF A NAVAL VICTORY by HERMAN MELVILLE INSPIRATION (2) by HENRY DAVID THOREAU THE INGOLDSBY PENANCE!; A LEGEND OF PALESTINE AND -- WEST KENT by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM TO THE SKYLARK by BERNARD BARTON A FRIENDLY EXPOSTULATION, CONCERNING THE REDEMPTION OF MANKIND by JOHN BYROM |