You, the choice minions of the proud-lipped nine Who warble at the great Apollo's knee, Why do you laugh at these rude lays of mine? I seek not of your brotherhood to be: I do not play the public swan, nor try To curve my proud neck on your vocal streams. In my own little isle retreated, I Lost myself in my waters and my dreams: Forgetful of the world, forgotten too, The cygnet of my own secluded wave I sing, whilst dashing up their silver dew For joy, the petty billows try to rave: There is a still applause in solitude, Fitting alike my merits and my mood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LETTER TO MY SISTER by ANNE SPENCER MY VERY PARTICULAR FRIEND by MARIA ABDY THE OLD BUFFALO TRAIL by ISABEL ANDERSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 9. AL-HATHIM by EDWIN ARNOLD MY VOCATION by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER SONNET: 108 by LUIS DE CAMOENS A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 14 by THOMAS CAMPION TO THE REV. W.J. HORT, WHILE TEACHING A YOUNG LADY ... ON HIS FLUTE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |