Others make verses of grace. Mine are all muscle and sinew. Others can picture your face. But I all the tumult within you. Others can give you delight, And delight I confess is worth giving. But my songs must tickle and bite And burn with the ardor of living. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN TO SCIENCE by MARK AKENSIDE THIS I REMEMBER by ELISABETH CHANNING ALLEN LAMENT OF AROMAITERAI by AROMAITERAI GRANDMOTHER'S TEACHING by ALFRED AUSTIN THE FIRST BOOK OF URIZEN by WILLIAM BLAKE A SUNRISE IN MARCH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SHEET LIGHTNING by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |