As the mottled shadows of the maple leaves Flick in the light of the clear, limpid moon And dance to the songs which the wind doth croon, So flick the shadows of fame; But like the shadow which close interweaves, That of the trunk which never doth move, So standest thou in our memory's groove, And ages will thee acclaim. As the rhythmic music of thy wondrous mind Awoke in men's hearts new, responsive chords, Thrilling like wine spilled from heavenly gourds, So wakes to thy worth at last The dull, sluggish hearts of the mortal kind, Which, drowsy with tunes from the unskilled hand Were nescient to strains of the infinite brand That came from thy treasures vast. As the carping critics of a carnal age Derided thy worth and caviled at thy best, Doubted thy might and damned thee with a zest, So all great minds have been slurred; But now thy defamers are gone from Life's stage, Their words are forgotten and scattered like chaff, No music they wrote on Eternity's staff, But thine will ever be heard. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 4 by CONRAD AIKEN BENEDICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EVENTIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RETROSPECTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DAY OF THE DEAD SOLDIERS; MARY 30, 1869 by EMMA LAZARUS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. PURKAPILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A LETTER ON THE USE OF MACHINE GUNS AT WEDDINGS by KENNETH PATCHEN |