THE poet burns, the whole night through, His "midnight oil," to weave a few Fresh-fashioned stanzas, grave or gay, Which in the public prints next day May earn a word of praise from you. 'Tis not an easy thing to do, When thoughts go lame and rhymes askew; So, many an imperfect lay The poet burns. Small wonder if, for cheer, he brew That "bracer" (this may be untrue; I only quote what people say) Which once drove carking care away And brought such inspiration to The poet Burns. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE IYYOB TRANSLATION FROM 'A-15' by LOUIS ZUKOFSKY LIFE [AND THE FLOWERS] by GEORGE HERBERT ROBIN HOOD, TO A FRIEND by JOHN KEATS WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT, FEBRUARY, 1885 by WALT WHITMAN ON SEEING BLENHEIM CASTLE by LUCY AIKEN POSSESSED by RUTH FITCH BARTLETT PROLOGUE. INTENDED FOR A DRAMATIC PIECE OF KING EDWARD THE FOURTH by WILLIAM BLAKE |