WHAT are to me those honours or renown Past or to come, a new-born people's cry? Albeit for such I could despise a crown Of aught save laurel, or for such could die, I am a fool of passion, and a frown Of thine to me is as an adder's eye. To the poor bird whose pinion fluttering down Wafts unto death the breast it bore so high; Such is this maddening fascination grown, So strong thy magic or so weak am I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO CERTAIN JOURNEYMEN by CARL SANDBURG THE CRY OF THE HUMAN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BEN KARSHOOK'S WISDOM by ROBERT BROWNING SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 97 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S BURIAL HYMN by WALT WHITMAN CORYDON - A PASTORAL by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |