O book, distilled from joy and tears, From passion, sorrow, error, strife, The epic of my earlier life, The record of my wandering years, Thou whom my youthful hands began, And manhood's touch now lingers o'er, Fashioned on Egypt's ruined shore, And 'midst the valleys of Japan, Canst thou a station find and hold Among the songs which charm the world? Or wilt thou be unkindly hurled Back to this vine-clad cottage old Where now I sit, in doubtful mood Whether or not to give thee flight? O world, whate'er thy voice -- 'tis right! O book, whate'er thy fate -- 'tis good! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I SING OF LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEEP IN THE QUIET WOOD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS THE MIDDLETON PLACE by AMY LOWELL STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 3. WASHINGTON, D.C. by CLARENCE MAJOR DOMESDAY BOOK: IRMA LEESE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A FOOL, A FOUL THING, A DISTRESSFUL LUNATIC by MARIANNE MOORE |