All things can tempt me from this craft of verse: One time it was a woman's face, or worse -- The seeming needs of my fool-driven land' Now nothing but comes readier to the hand Than this accustomed toil. When I was young. I had not given a penny for a song Did not the poet sing it with such airs That one believed he had a sword upstairs; Yet would be now, could I but have my wish, Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHERE? by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LEAVES OF A MAGAZINE by MARIANNE MOORE THE WILL OF GOD by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER CHIQUITA by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 77. SOUL'S BEAUTY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE DAY-DREAM: MORAL by ALFRED TENNYSON |