His brows were circled by a wreath of bays, The symbol of the bard's well-earned renown -- Upon his head more regal than the crown Of kings. For he by his immortal lays Is King among the poets of these days. And far and wide where'er our mother-tongue Is known, his winged lines are read and sung In crowded cities and in green by-ways. What could his country give that he had not? Fame, wealth, love's best companionship he had. And, blown across the seas, no lonely spot Of our far West but felt the effluence glad Borne to our hearts as from ethereal fire In the rich music of his English lyre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GRIEF by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY by JOHN DONNE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 71. THE CHOICE (1) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE BROOK: SUMMER by LAURA ABELL THE SISTERS by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 12. THE CREATOR by EDWIN ARNOLD |