(TO A. L.) THE shopman shambled from the doorway out And twitched it down -- Snapped in the blade! 'Twas scarcely dear, I doubt, At half-a-crown. Useless enough! And yet can still be seen, In letters clear, Traced on the metal's rusty damaskeen -- 'Povr Paruenyr.' Whose was it once? -- Who manned it once in hope His fate to gain? Who was it dreamed his oyster-world should ope To this -- in vain? Maybe with some stout Argonaut it sailed The Western Seas; Maybe but to some paltry Nym availed For toasting cheese! Or decked by Beauty on some morning lawn With silken knot, Perchance, ere night, for Church and King 'twas drawn -- Perchance 'twas not! Who knows -- or cares? To-day, 'mid foils and gloves Its hilt depends, Flanked by the favours of forgotten loves, -- Remembered friends; -- And oft its legend lends, in hours of stress, A word to aid; Or like a warning comes, in puffed success, Its broken blade. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN ALL IS DONE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 71 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE BIRTH SONG OF CHRIST by EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS FIFTY FAGGOTS by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER by JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 46 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |