WHEN a bar of pure silver or ingot of gold Is sent to be flatted or wrought into length, It is passed between cylinders often, and rolled In an engine of utmost mechanical strength. Thus tortured and squeezed, at last it appears Like a loose heap of ribbon, a glittering show, Like music it tinkles and rings in your ears, And warmed by the pressure, is all in a glow. This process achieved, it is doomed to sustain The thump after thump of a gold-beater's mallet, And at last is of service in sickness or pain To cover a pill for a delicate palate. Alas for the poet! who dares undertake To urge reformation of national ill-- His head and his heart are both likely to ache With the double employment of mallet and mill. If he wish to instruct, he must learn to delight; Smooth, ductile, and even, his fancy must flow, Must tinkle and glitter like gold to the sight, And catch in its progress a sensible glow. After all, he must beat it as thin and as fine As the leaf that enfolds what an invalid swallows; For truth is unwelcome, however divine, And unless you adorn it, a nausea follows. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOUNTAIN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL GRIN by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE A MORNING THOUGHT by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL T.T. IN COMMENDATION OF THE AUTHOR HIS WORKE by RICHARD BARNFIELD TOM JONES by JAMES HAY BEATTIE DISCOVERY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE WHOM EARTH HAS TAUGHT: RENEWALS by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS WRITTEN ON RETURNING TO THE P. OF I. ON 10 JANUARY 1827 by EMILY JANE BRONTE |