O Muse, we are so many! Everywhere The land seems full of us; and thou couldst spare The most, no doubt, completely; Ay, were the tuneful tribe all swept away— Such folk we are!—the people, I dare say, Would take it very sweetly. But still we sing, or chirp, or utter some wild call, And hover around thy golden mountain,—all, From eagles down to swallows. O Muse, thou must be weary! Dared I ask Thy benediction on so slight a task, I'd ask about as follows: Blow hitherward a little breath of song; Don't blow too powerful, nor blow too long; And, in the strain I borrow, Set two or three sweet notes that on the air Will not die wholly, but will unaware Return again tomorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOVEMBER BLUE by ALICE MEYNELL BALLAD: THE THINGS OF NO ACCOUNT by FRANCOIS VILLON HELEN AND THETIS by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 10. THE FAIR by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM SONNETS OF SEVEN CITIES: NEW YORK by BERTON BRALEY OUR PRISONERS OF WAR IN GERMANY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |