SCORN not the sonnet; critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honors; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; With it Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow a glow-worm lamp, It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faeryland To struggle through dark ways; and when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strains, -- alas! too few. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH PARAGRAPHS: 15 by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE by JAMES GALVIN IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER |