I made my choice: 'Twas children or my voice; Now it is gone I sit here sad, alone. No one to care Whither I go, or where I spend the years; They end at last in tears. Forgot my name; Impermanent is fame. How dare I teach Ambitious youth to reach For such a prize, When at the end there lies Bitter regret, Forgetfulness? And yet Still in my ears The plaudits of my peers Fill lonely days With their remembered praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LENDING A PUNCH BOWL by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE DREAM THAT CRACKED A WHIP by FRANCES AIRTH THE AUTHOR'S LAST WORDS TO HIS STUDENTS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN DISCOVERY OF MADEIRA by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES TO THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION by VALERY YAKOVLEVICH BRYUSOV JOURNAL IN CEPHALONIA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |