My thanks, dear friend, as always! But, I fear No art -- not Prospero's -- can speak to me As those swift words you breathed first in my ear. They were your heart; this but your wizardry. We have lived much, won much, and now are old. Strange, is it not, when I call in review My life's achievements, dross and drab and gold, There's nothing shines but took its light from you? And yet, as I reread our book to-night, And trembled almost at some old-loved line, I wondered if the world, so prone to slight, Would some day slur your stainless name with mine, Not knowing there is ice in heavenly flame, And Friendship is Love's canonized name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ERASMUS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON FAUSTINE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 5. ALLAH-AL-KUDDUS by EDWIN ARNOLD THE SNOB by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE CRIME OF THE AGES; 1861 by AUGUSTA COOPER BRISTOL |