I read my sentence steadily, Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause, -- The date, and manner of the shame; And then the pious form That "God have mercy" on the soul The jury voted him. I made my soul familiar With her extremity, That at the last it should not be A novel agony, But she and Death, acquainted, Meet tranquilly as friends, Salute and pass without a hint -- And there the matter ends. I reckon, when I count at all, First Poets - then the Sun - Then Summer - then the Heaven of God - And then the list is done. But looking back - the first so seems To comprehend the whole - The others look a needless show, So I write Poets - All. This summer lasts a solid year, They can afford a sun The East would deem Extravagant, And if the final Heaven Be beautiful as they disclose To those who trust in them, It is too difficult a grace | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTING THE BEATS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES IN A BYE-CANAL by HERMAN MELVILLE EL HOMBRE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS FOR A ROYAL WEDDING, 29 JULY 1981 by JOHN BETJEMAN TO IRON-FOUNDERS AND OTHERS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY HARVESTERS by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: SEVENTH ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |