IF we are one, dear friend! why shouldst thou be At once unequal to thyself and me? By thy release thou swell'st my debt the more, And dost but rob thyself to make me poor. What part can I have in thy luminous cone? What flame, since my love's thine, can call my own? The palest star is less the son of night, Who, but thy borrow'd, know no native light: Was't not enough thou freely didst bestow The Muse, but thou wouldst give the laurel too? And twice my aims by thy assistance raise, Conferring first the merit, then the praise? But I should do thee greater injury, Did I believe this praise were meant to me, Or thought, though thou hast worth enough to spare, T' enrich another soul, that mine should share. Thy Muse, seeming to lend, calls home her fame, And her due wreath doth in renouncing claim. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MOSQUITO by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT AN ANCIENT PROPHECY by PHILIP FRENEAU MARCHING (AS SEEN FROM THE LEFT FILE) by ISAAC ROSENBERG SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 45 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE OLD HOKUM BUNCOMBE by ROBERT EMMET SHERWOOD ONLY A YEAR' by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE |