I AM too old to be ensnared By formless verse. For I first aired My boyish lyre in Dobson's rule, And taught myself in that strict school To have my stanzas filed and pared. How hopelessly for rhymes I stared! But chipped and polished till I bared The finer grain. Discard my tool? I am too old. I vote for verses craftsman-cared -- Landor'd, Dobson'd, De la Mare'd; For rhyme is still the quiet pool Where Beauty is reflected. You'll Agree (as many have declared) I am too old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHANSON INNOCENTE: 1, FR. TULIPS by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS SABBATH THOUGHTS by GRACE AGUILAR GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 10. A CATALOGUE OF CERTAINE OF HIS BOOKES by RICHARD BARNFIELD LOVE'S PHANTOM by MATHILDE BLIND CAELI by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON GIBBON by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES VERSES WRITTEN UNDER A PRINT by JOHN BYROM |