WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones, The labor of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument. For whilst to the shame of slow-endeavoring art Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving; And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF THE WAVE by ROBERT FROST BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMI GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LIMERICK by OLIVER BROOK HERFORD TO-NIGHT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 110 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |