I CAST these lyric offerings at your feet, And ask you but to fling them not away: There suffer them to rest, till even they, By happy nearness to yourself, grow sweet. He that hath shaped and wrought them holds it meet That you be sung, not in some artless way, But with such pomp and ritual as when May Sends her full choir, the throned Morn to greet. With something caught from your own lofty air, With something learned from your own highborn grace, Song must approach your presence; must forbear All light and easy accost; and yet abase Its own proud spirit in awe and reverence there, Before the Wonder of your form and face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LEPANTO by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON IN MAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A LAMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY by ROBERT BURNS SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 32 by BLISS CARMAN THE TRAGEDY OF CHARLES, DUKE OF BYRON by GEORGE CHAPMAN (1559-1634) |