Sometimes I blow and praise a bubble, And then I stab, to break its light; This morning I despised a lamb, And now a rat would please my sight. Lately I called my birth divine, And kings came second; now, my Soul Takes penance in the cold, dark earth, In a cell with the snail and a mole. To-day I love; to-morrow rue't: Your prophet, sage and friend the Poet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DINOSAUR NATIONAL by KAREN SWENSON MARY'S GIRLHOOD (FOR A PICTURE): 1 by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE WORMS AT HEAVEN'S GATE by WALLACE STEVENS THE PROGRESS OF POETRY by JONATHAN SWIFT EMERSON by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT MYSELF by HARRIET ELLEN (GRANNIS) AREY |