HOLY EUTERPE teaches me to hate The common crowd; Her sacred laurel-branch marks my estate, And makes me proud. She deigns to tune her fluting pipes for me Within her wood, And brings them me whene'er my heart may be In singing mood. From her own spring she chrismed me, with her lip She named my name, And made me share old Rome's high mastership And Athens' fame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 11 by EZRA POUND A WOMAN'S LAST WORD by ROBERT BROWNING THE WILDERNESS TRANSFORMED by PHILIP DODDRIDGE NIGHTMARE, FR. IOLANTHE by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT THE WOOD THRUSH by SUSAN SHARP ADAMS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 46 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SHALL VERMONTERS RAISE SHEEP? by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |