FAME guards the wreath we call a crown With other wreaths of fire, And dragging this or that man down Will not raise you the higher! Fear not too much the open seas, Nor yet yourself misdoubt; Clear the bright wake of geniuses, Then steadily steer out. That wicked men in league should be To push your craft aside, Is not the hint of modesty, But the poor conceit of pride. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY MOTHER SLEEPING by MARY RUSSELL MITFORD SIR LANCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE INDIAN GIRL'S LAMENT by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT MARGARET AND DORA by THOMAS CAMPBELL THE STEEPLE by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS EPISTLE TO SIR CLIFFORD CLIFTON, THEN SITTING IN PARLIAMENT by CHARLES COTTON |