For whom shall I write, and what purpose in sight? Do the critics give heed when invited to read The thoughts I indite in my study at night? Oh, no; they impede every chance to succeed And strangle my might by praises so slight I fain would recede with my uttermost speed Back, back from the land of the poet's delight. For whom, then, for whom shall I pierce the dark gloom Of the poet's own soul, or vent thoughts that control The spirits that loom in his intellect's tomb? Shall I stoop to cajole the plebian droll, Or shall I presume to the day of my doom To strive for a goal which is part of the whole? Oh, no; for such thoughts my soul has no room. I shall write for the prize in the gift of the wise, I shall strive for renown and in hope of a crown, My work shall comprise all the best I devise, What though critic or clown shall attempt to tear down Or damn and despise under faint praise's guise, And snicker or frown when they meet me in town, I shall write for the souls who with truth sympathize. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BODY BREAKING by MARVIN BELL FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN SUNSET by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO JOHN BROWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO TIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER |