(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...INDEPENDENCE DAY by ROYALL TYLER AN ODE OF ANACREON by ANACREON THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. DIET by JOHN ARMSTRONG TO A PROFILE by BERNARD BARTON PSALM 82 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SUBLIME ILLUSION by FLORENCE BROOKS AN ARGUMENT FOR DAVID'S BELIEF OF A FUTURE STATE by JOHN BYROM COMPLAYNT D'AMOURS; AN AMOROUS COMPLAINT, MADE AT WINDSOR by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |