Rhyme, in a late disdainful age, Hath many and many an eager knight; Each man of them, to print his page, From every quarter wings his flight! What tons of manuscripts alight Here in the Row, how many a while, For all can rhyme, when all can write- The Master's yonder, in the Isle! Like Otus some, with giant rage, But scarcely with a giant's might, Ossa on Pelion engage To pile, and scale Parnassus' height! And some, with subtle nets and slight, Entangle rhymes exceeding vile, And wondrous adjectives unite- The Master's yonder, in the Isle! Alas, the Muse they cannot cage, These poets in a sorry plight, Vain is the weary war they wage, In vain they curse the critic's spite! While grammar some neglect outright, While others polish with the file, Some fate contrives their toil to blight- The Master's yonder, in the Isle! Envoy Prince, Arnold's jewel-work is bright, And Browning, in his iron style, Doth gold on his rude anvil smite- The Master's yonder, in the Isle! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ADMIRER by CLAUDIA EMERSON THE MESSAGES by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE HOMECOMING by THOMAS HARDY BROTHERS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TO JANE: THE INVITATION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |